


Moonlight Serenade

by magnessina



Series: Moonlight Series [1]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Slow Build, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 75
Words: 27,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnessina/pseuds/magnessina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I shall not disappoint him. Not now, not ever. I just... I just need some time. I think." If you want to find happiness, you must first learn how to be strong.</p><p>Drabble-ish fic, shameless Erik/Christine fluff. Pre-written. Updated daily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feur

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after the unmasking scene in the ALWstagemusical!Phantom. Shameless E/C fluff, I think, although I tend to get angsty every so often. The fic is 75 chapters long, each og them ~300-words-long. Previously posted on ff.net. Hope you enjoy it on here, too.
> 
> I don't own anything. Not even Erik. Eh.

_She was the only one that was supposed to be different…_

* * *

 

_**{Christine}** _

The inner mechanisms of the human mind are quite astounding.

When certain… _events_ impose themselves upon us and they seem to be a danger to our rationality our minds, paradoxically, label them as dreams. They cannot be real. They do not fit. We cannot quite comprehend them.

Therefore they could not have happened.

Right?

_Maybe I am just going mad…_

I shake my head a little, trying to focus on not falling down. Surely my companion would not wish to help me up right now. He is way too furious with me.

Not that I can blame him.

"I… Sleep well, Christine," he mumbles as we reach my dressing room. I turn around to face him, to say something, _to apologise,_ but he is already gone.

I sigh and close my eyes.

How on earth did the best night of my entire life turn into my biggest nightmare?


	2. Regret

_Everything is ruined now. I have no hope left. She will never return to me._

* * *

 

_**{Christine}** _

I've got two options.

I can either go to my flat and cry myself to sleep or I can stay here and… Well, cry myself to sleep.

Considering that it is way too late for me to wander around Paris all alone, I decide to spend the night in my dressing room.

I take my time while getting ready to bed. I try to focus on brushing my hair extra carefully, I wash my face thoroughly, making sure to remove any traces of the stage make-up that might still be there.

And yet, my mind is otherwise occupied.

When I finally lie down, I close my eyes and try to recall the events which took place… _down there._

I cannot remember what exactly his face looked like. I know it was unpleasant to look at, to put it nicely, but if anyone asked for details, I would not be able to provide one.

All I see is his rage, though. His fury was what scared me the most.

I shudder violently.

My God, how am I ever going to mend this mess?


	3. Avancement

_And for a moment I thought she was mocking me. Why would she further punish her poor, unhappy Erik?_

* * *

 

_**{Christine}** _

Upon learning about my successful debut, La Carlotta has decided to forgive the managers and return to the Opera. Yet, to appease the Opera Ghost, Monsieur Firmin informed me this morning that I would not be a ballet dancer anymore; I was now La Carlotta's understudy.

What an honour, indeed.

I know I am being bitter. I cannot help it. I should be grateful for any opportunity of developing my talent. And oh, do I love performing in front of an audience!

But how can I appreciate it properly when I have no one with whom I could share my happiness?

After the rehearsals end, I go to my dressing room and sit on the cold wooden floor in front of the mirror.

I sigh quietly and touch its glossy surface with the tip of my index finger.

"I know you heard everything, Angel." I chuckle humourlessly when I call him that. I do not know his real name, though, so this must do for now. "Give me some time. I am trying."

And deep down I know he understands what I mean by that.

_He always does._


	4. Ire

_I may never see her again, but I will be damned if I let them treat her as somebody worse than Carlotta._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"My God, Christine, am I glad you are here at last!" shouts Meg as I appear downstairs. I rub my eyes a little, trying to focus on what she is saying which is quite difficult considering that I have not had a good night sleep in forever.

"Is there something wrong, Meg?" I ask.

"Oh, yes, there is indeed! Apparently, the Opera Ghost is not quite pleased with the managers making you La Carlotta's understudy. I think he has taken an interest in you, you know. I heard he had wanted you to be a leading soprano and now he is angry!"

"Angry? How so?"

"He has been decidedly mischievous this morning. Not to say vicious! The decorations collapsed at least three times, La Carlotta tripped over a rope that appeared on the floor _out of nowhere_ , and it is only seven thirty in the morning! Poor Andre and Firmin, they must be going mad at this point!"

I chew on my lip.

"I see. Are you sure it was him? Has anybody seen him?"

"No, silly, you cannot see a ghost, now, can you?" she laughs. "But I, myself, heard his laughter every time something bad happened. I have no doubts whatsoever it is the Phantom of the Opera's vengeance for not following his wishes!"

_You are not going to make it any easier for me, are you, Angel?_


	5. Langueur

_She knew nothing._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Christine!" I stop abruptly when I hear the strangely familiar voice and spin around to face Raoul.

The question is, how on earth could I completely forget about him until now?

_You little fool, you are so focused on yourself you do not pay attention to anything else, do you?_

"Raoul!" I say with a fake smile on my face. I am too tired to be really happy to see him again. "I am so, _so_ incredibly sorry about the other night."

"I am not going to lie, you had me worried sick. You just… disappeared," he replies. "I heard somebody's voice in your dressing room..."

"Yes, well, um… As I said, my tutor is very strict. He insisted on having a music lesson, and then we celebrated my success."

_Liar, liar, pants on fire!_

I am more and more sure I am going to end up in hell.

"Oh, I hope you had a wonderful time, then," he answers softly. "Perhaps we could go out some other time?"

"I hope so, Raoul." I think he notices that I am in a hurry. He smiles for the last time and kindly bids me adieu. I sigh loudly as I enter my dressing room.

I sit down in front of the mirror again.

"I know what you are trying to do, you know," I say out loud.

_Good God, how much longer must we stay apart?_

_I miss you so, my Angel._

_But we've got more pressing issues to discuss right now._


	6. Déprécation

_I was dying, slowly and painfully, wishing for her to come back…_

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"It was not that difficult to figure out what you were trying to prove to me. Now that you cannot disguise yourself as an angel anymore, you are determined to show me the Phantom's power and his anger, are you not?"

I sigh tiredly.

I am so, so very tired.

"I am asking you to stop. Please. You are furious with me, yet at the same time you are trying to help me. In a very twisted way, may I add. But please, do not do this anymore. I do not want their pity. I want them to _see_ me, to see me as you do. I want them to notice that I am not worthless. That I can do something. And I know I need to work for it. _You_ taught me that. _You_. So please, let me earn their respect on my own."

As I speak, I look at my reflection in the mirror. What I see saddens me; I seem unhappy, exhausted and resigned.

I hate it.

"I know you are angry with me. But I am angry with you as well, you see. You called me a little lying Delilah… You had not been exactly honest with me either, had you? So let's just… get over it. Let's give each other some time to think. Not too long, though," I add quietly, "I miss you too much.

"Now I am going to go to my flat, drink some herbs and sleep for at least ten hours. You should do the same, you know? And for God's sake, stop ruining the opera!"

I stand up, gather my things and then turn to leave.

"Good night, Angel. I will see you soon. I promise," I say with a small smile playing on my lips.


	7. Réalisation

_All I ever wanted was her. And it killed me to know that she would never be mine._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

April this year is quite warm so far, yet the nights are still chilly. As soon as I enter my flat, I toss my things aside and prepare myself my favourite herbs. The hot drink instantly makes me feel better.

After a while I take a bath and then lie down in my bed. It has been so long since I last spent the night here.

It feels almost weird.

I do not know why.

Despite my efforts, I cannot fall asleep. I spend hours just staring at the dark ceiling and thinking about everything and nothing.

At some point I realise something important.

I like being alone. I do not spend my evenings with the ballet girls; I prefer to read a book, or knit while singing some Swedish folk songs. It gives me time to think and allows me to relax.

But when I think about Meg going home with Madame Giry, Raoul going out with his family, or even Carlotta spending time with her beloved Piangi, I finally notice the difference between being _alone_ and being _lonely._

I do not fancy being _lonely_.

And this is what I am.

I am _lonely_.

Ever since my Papa died, all I have left is..

Oh, God.

All I have left is my Angel.

He has always listened. He has cared. He has comforted me. He has always been there when I needed him.

Because he is just as lonely.

When hot tears well up in my eyes, I shut them tightly.

I know _exactly_ what I must do tomorrow.


	8. Réunion

_I have missed her so…_

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Sunday is the only day free for us, for which I am incredibly grateful.

And yet, I find myself in the Opera house less than an hour after Mass ends. I am determined to stop this madness; whilst I realise it was me who asked for some time to think, I simply cannot do this any longer. I have not spent _one day_ without my Angel for almost ten years now, so this last week was truly a nightmare.

As always I sit down on the floor in front of my mirror. I pray to God he's here as well.

"I would like to see you, Angel," I say gently.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Nothing happens.

"Please," I chew on my lip, getting more and more anxious. I am so scared he's gone.

_Where else would he be, though? Don't be a fool, Christine._

"I know you are angry with me. I do. But please, _please_ , let me see you again."

Minutes pass.

Still nothing.

"I am begging you."

"Why should I? So you can mock me some more?"

I close my eyes for a moment when I hear his voice again, thanking Lord that he answered.

_It's okay, Angel. I will fix this._

"Just… Please, reveal yourself!" I cry out.

After a moment his face appears in the mirror, just like it did _that_ night.

I cannot help myself; I burst into tears.

"Foolish child, why did you want this?" He groans when I start crying even harder. "You cannot even _bear_ to look at me anymore without weeping. And I _am_ wearing my mask!" He lowers his eyes in shame. My heart breaks for him.

"No, no," I murmur, "I am just so happy to finally see you, _mon ange_."


	9. Conciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure fluff from now on.

_And so Christine was back in my life. I did not know whether it was a blessing or a curse._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Everything is so… awkward between us.

Neither says anything for a very long time; I'm trying to control my pathetic sobs, and he looks as if he wanted to be anywhere but here, with me.

I wonder whether he really does love me, like he told me he did _that_ night.

_He has promised never to say that again…_

"Christine, pardon me for cutting your fun short, but if you were so kind as to tell me why did you want to see me, I would be extremely grateful. Then we could part and-…"

I panic when he mentions leaving.

"I wish to have my voice lesson today," I blurt out, wiping off the tears.

"Oh. And you expect me to… teach you again. Right this very moment, because I'm your faithful puppy who does whatever his owner wants it to? As in, your wish is my command?" He lifts his one eyebrow at me, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, when you put it that way… Yes, yes, I do," I answer calmly. "I want to continue working with you because I do want to be the leading soprano one day. And you have been my teacher for so long, you have taught me so much; I cannot imagine finding a new tutor now. I do not wish to."

My Angel is staring at me blankly; for the thousandth time today I pray to God he listens to me.

"I should not let you play with me again," he mumbles. "But your voice is way too precious. Fine, I will teach you again."

_I feel faint._

"Splendid! Shall we go to your house now?"

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, clearly having not expected me to propose such a thing.

"Yes. Let's."


	10. Visiter

_And was it real or was it just a dream?_

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

The house is completely dark when we enter. He leads me to a chair and orders me to stay there while he lights a fire in the fireplace.

Once the rooms is lit up, I note just how messy it is. One chair is flipped over, the glass and porcelain are shattered all across the floor, and it just feels somehow wrong; such disarray does not suit him at all. He must notice my puzzlement because he quietly says, "Forgive me. I did not expect a company."

"Oh, that is nothing. Perhaps I could help you?" I ask standing up and then bending down to pick up a broken vase.

"No!" His shout makes me yelp in surprise. "You mustn't. You could hurt yourself," he adds softly.

"But…"

"No buts. Let's start this music lesson now; it is getting rather late."

I shake my head a little. It is only two in the afternoon.

As it is to be expected, our session is quite tense. My tutor is rather stiff and harsh; he also does not look me in the eye. At all. Not even one look for almost two hours.

It makes me so incredibly sad. I am terrified that we will never be friends again.

And he is my only friend. All I have is him.

"Well," he says after the lesson is finished, "you did… Um, you were not horrible."

_Thank you?_

* * *


	11. Connaissance

_It could not be real. It could not. Good things do not happen to bad people._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"I mean, you are clearly out of practice. We will have to work extra hard for a while, I suppose," he explains.

I nod absentmindedly. I know he is right, of course. Then, before my inner coward can win the battle and I change my mind, I ask, "What is your real name?"

"Why… Why would you ask?" He blinks, visibly shocked.

"Surely you do not expect me to keep calling you Angel, do you? I think 'monsieur' is also not suitable for we have known each other for almost ten years now. It feels too formal, wouldn't you agree? I do think we could be on first-name basis now that I know you are indeed real."

"What if I told you I did not have any name?" He is playing with his hands which are resting on his laps. I hate seeing him so uncomfortable.

_Good God, has no one ever wanted to get to know you?_

"I would not believe you," I reply, "for everyone has got a name."

He is quiet for a longer while. With every passing minute I am more and more sure he is going to either shout at me or flee. I regret having asked him this question.

But before I can start panicking, I hear these quiet, uncertain words, "My name is Erik."

 _Erik_.

Somehow knowing his name makes him feel even more tangible.

I smile brightly, trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Very well, then," I say cheerfully. "My name is Christine. I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Erik."

And then my Angel cracks a smile.

I cannot be sure, but I could swear it is there.


	12. Rêves

_I could not tell whether she was truly honest with me._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

_Erik_ quickly composes himself.

"Would you like some tea?" he asks politely. I sigh, knowing that the moment is over. Still, today has turned out better than I expected, so I nod and thank him. I also ask him again whether he would like me to help him clean up the mess, but he dismisses me, saying I should not worry about it.

But I do.

I know I was the reason of his fury.

The rest of the day is spent… peacefully. We stay mostly quiet; he is playing the piano, I am drinking my tea and reading some book he left on the table nearby. At some point Erik stands up and says, "I think perhaps you ought to go back now."

I look up from my book, slightly confused.

"You want me to leave?"

"Well, it is getting late. I suppose you should be back in your flat before it gets dark."

"Oh," I hum. "It's a pity I cannot stay here overnight."

"You… What?"

"Well, it would make things somewhat easier, would it not? Our time together would not be so limited, I think. I mean, our _lessons_ time."

_Was it too soon?_

No, it was not. I had practically worshipped him when I thought he was the Angel of Music. He is my closest friend. I am still… intimidated by his presence, but I do want to spend time with him.

"Right," he clears his throat. "And you wish to stay… here? With me?"

"Wishful thinking, I guess," I reply. "I'd better fetch my cloak, then. Are we going to have a lesson tomorrow?" I ask.

"If you want us to," he shrugs, still clearly uncertain.

"I do, Erik."

"I will meet you after rehearsals, then."

I can only beam at him.


	13. Destin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos!

_I couldn't believe my own eyes._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

The next day I wake up with a huge smile on my face.

Even Meg notices that my mood has improved; I shrug, not wanting to get into details. No one should know that my Angel of Music and the Phantom of the Opera are the same person.

 _They're both my Erik_.

I cringe a little when Raoul approaches me during the rehearsal.

"Christine," he greets me, "I have not seen you in ages!"

"It's been two days, Raoul," I answer, smiling at him.

"Well, it feels like forever. Are you busy this afternoon?"

"I'm afraid so," I reply. There is no way I am skipping my voice lesson today. "I feel so bad, though. I let you down time and time again."

"What a pity," he nods. "We seem to be unable to schedule a date that would be suitable for us both."

I chew on my lip. "Maybe we are not meant to? Perhaps fate has got different plans?"

He shakes his head. "I guess I will see you around, then?"

"You _definitely_ will," I say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

I sigh loudly as I hear Carlotta's screams.

_Oh dear God, I cannot wait to see Erik again._


	14. Incertitude

_And I was finding it hard to believe she would choose me over the Vicomte._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

As I open the door of my dressing room, I expect to see Erik inside.

He's not there, though.

I feel tears welling up in my eyes.

_He has promised to come._

"Erik?" I cry out pathetically. The mirror swings open then, and my Angel appears in front of me.

I am such a little fool; I blink rapidly to prevent him from seeing me in such state.

"Christine," he greets me. He is still so uncertain; he seems not to know how to behave around me. Which is not that shocking, really. I have thought him to be a supernatural being for almost ten years, and from what I can tell, he has never been much around people. I guess he has the right to feel somewhat awkward.

I need to be the stronger one.

"I thought you changed your mind about our lessons," I whisper.

"No, no, I just… I have heard you talking to the Vicomte," he replies. _Of course you have._ "And I thought, perhaps, you would rather spend your afternoon with him."

"But I did turn him down in favour of our lesson, did I not?"

"Indeed. I just thought you would have a more pleasant time with him, and I did not want to… force you to go with me. Just because you feel obliged…" He trails off.

I shake my head, my heart breaking for him.

"Erik, there is no one else but you with whom I would like to spend my time. Shall we go now? I have waited for this moment the whole day!"

He carefully studies my face, trying to decide whether I am being honest with him. I think he finds what he is looking for, because, finally, he says, "Of course."


	15. Songe

_She was so precious and so trusting. And I was so unworthy._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

We work for almost two hours; I do everything I can to please him and to make him proud of me. As a result, when he finally finishes our lesson, I am exhausted beyond belief.

"We will have to focus on vowels a little more, but overall… You did well," he says.

I smile weakly.

"Would you like to go back now?" I blink in confusion. Surely he does not think I wish to leave so soon?

"I could, but I do not want to. Not yet. Would you be so kind as to give me something to drink?"

He nods, still slightly surprised. He really needs to stop doubting my sincerity. "Of course, let me make us some tea."

As he leaves, I sit on the couch, which is decisively more comfortable than the bench by the piano.

And then I fall asleep.

At least, I suspect I do, because the next thing I know, Erik is putting a fluffy blanket upon my legs.

"Oh, my!" I exclaim.

"I am so sorry," Erik whispers sheepishly. "I did not mean to wake you up. I just wanted to make sure you were not cold…"

"I cannot believe I've fallen asleep!" I ignore his unnecessary apologies.

"A foolish thing to do, I know. Being unconscious with a monster nearby is quite dangerous."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "What monster? See, there are certain perks of having the Phantom of the Opera as a friend. He keeps me safe even when I am not awake."

"Am I your friend, Christine?" Erik asks seriously.

"Aren't I yours?" I inquire, matching his tone.

"You are. The only one I've got."

"Same here, Erik." I smile warmly at him. "Now, what about my tea?"


	16. L'heure du thé

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my most favourite parts, I think :)  
> Thanks for the kudos!

_How could she be so comfortable around me?_

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"You are ruining everything, Chistine!" Erik growls at me. I merely shrug, not even bothering to look at him. "I swear, Christine, restrain yourself, or so help me…"

"Oh, please," I say softly, "I am not _that_ afraid of you, you know."

"Just stop it, you foolish child!" He ignores my words completely, still throwing threats at me. "Or I shall be forced to do it for you."

"You do realise you are being ridiculous, do you not?" I sigh, shaking my head.

"That's it, I will not permit-" I cut his rant off this time.

"Good Lord, there, I'm stopping! I do not know why you are making such a fuss, anyway. Did you not tell me, and I quote, 'Christine, would you like to take some sugar in your tea?', to which I answered with, 'Yes, please.'" I rise an eyebrow, daring Erik to deny; I know he will not, for _all of this is true._

"I was talking about a small teaspoon, not four of them!" He groans, disgust apparent in his voice.

"Who would have thought you would be so crazy about _tea_."

"What _you_ have just done should be considered a sin."

"You are such a drama queen, oh God," I burst into giggles. He eyes me with a strange expression on the unmasked side of his face. "Carlotta would be so proud!"

"If throwing a fit because of the way you drink tea makes you laugh so hard, I shall have to do this more often," he whispers.

"Heavens, no!" I cry out. "My cheeks hurt already!"


	17. Fureur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have lied about the fluff. This one's angsty.

_I knew the monster would be back._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Erik, have you got the time?" I ask, putting my book on the table. I blink a few times; I must have been reading for a while, because my eyes feel quite tired.

"It is almost eight in the evening." _Where did the time go, truly!_ "I would hate to rush you, but I do think you should go back now."

"You say this way too often, you know," I laugh softly. "But you are right. Would you be so kind as to get me my coat?"

"Of course," he answers. As I wait for him in the hallway, I wonder if he would like to go outside with me. April nights are absolutely lovely, and I guess he hardly ever leaves the Opera House, anyway.

Pushing all doubts aside, I ask as he approaches, "Listen, maybe we could go up to the roof together and-"

I do not get to finish this sentence.

He drops my coat to the floor and almost runs to me. I back away in fear until my back hits the wall; nonetheless, he stops mere inches from me.

"What is that sick game you are playing, Christine?!" he lashes out on me. "Do you think I am that much of a fool? Do you think you can make me _believe_ you actually want to spend time with me, only to crush my hopes later on? When I am too far gone so you can _destroy_ me? You little wench!" His voice is so loud it makes me cringe; Erik is towering over me and his eyes…

_Good God._

The fury I saw that night is back.

"I am not playing with you," I cry out. I cannot stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks.

Those cheeks that hurt me from laughing only a few hours ago.

"Please, Erik, please, believe me," I whisper. "You are scaring me!"

That does it. He draws back, falling down to his knees. I am too terrified to fathom what is happening; only after a while can I make out the words he is repeating over and over again.

"This is wrong, Erik is scaring his Christine, Erik should not be doing this… Wrong, oh, so wrong…"


	18. Blessé

_I have never apologised to anyone in my life._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

This is such a déjà-vu moment.

He leads me to my dressing room.

Again.

He is silent.

Again.

He is hiding from me.

Again.

And I am desperate to mend things between us.

 _Again_.

This time, however, I am completely blameless. All I wanted was to spend some time with him. I meant no harm.

And _this_ is what I got in return.

I do not even look at him as we reach our destination. I do not ask whether he is feeling better, nor do I bid him goodbye. I leave.

I do not remember much of the journey to my flat. I pay no attention to anybody, and to anything. I just want to get home and let out all anger.

As soon as I sit down on my bed, my breathing speeds up. Suddenly, there is no enough air in the room; I open the window and gasp for breath.

I am _suffocating._

And the only person I want to hold me, to soothe me, to be with me, is currently locked up under the Opera House.

_It hurts._


	19. Excuses

_I just needed her to understand..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Loud knocking disturbs my dreamless slumber. I frown deeply, looking at the clock; it is just few minutes after midnight.

I am torn.

On the one hand, I want to know who it is and what is so urgent that it has to be discussed at this hour; on the other hand, I am too scared to get up and talk to the intruder.

The truth is, I am too curious for my own good, which is why I put on my dressing gown and tip-toe my way to the front door, asking quietly, "Who is this?"

The other person is quiet for a moment.

"It is Erik," I hear at last. My eyebrows shot up; he is decisively somebody I would never expect to visit me here.

I unlock the door without hesitation. Erik steps in; he is wearing his black cloak and fedora, his white mask shining in the darkness. I light up a candle without saying a word.

I wait for him to explain himself.

"I came here to apologise for my behaviour, Christine," he says, his voice breaking a little. "And I have never apologised to anybody, so I am not quite certain as to what I am supposed to be doing. But… I do know I should have never doubted your honesty… And I should not have yelled at you… And I should have not scared you… I am sorry for that, Christine. At least, I think I am."

_Poor, unhappy Erik!_

"When something does not let you focus on anything else, and you feel sadder than usual… When you want to hurt yourself for hurting somebody else… It does mean you are sorry for your wrongdoings, does it not?" He asks cautiously.

"It does, Erik," I nod.

"Then I am so, _so_ sorry for what I have done to you!"


	20. Pardon

_She was something else, indeed._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Please, have a seat, Erik," I say softly, now fully awake.

My heart is beating so hard at the moment, for I begin to realise just how alluring is his… _darkness_. The infamous Phantom of the Opera, who threatens, demands, scares, sometimes even hurts other people…

He cares for me. And only for me.

And he wants to make sure he's forgiven.

He, the terrifying _ghost_.

The power I seem to have over him is overwhelming.

"Are you still mad at me?" Erik presses.

"I think… I think I was never mad at you. I was shocked and scared. I do not like it when you yell at me," I confess. Deep down, I am afraid it will somehow provoke him to lash out on me again.

"I do not want you to fear me," he whispers. "I… I will try to control my temper for you. I will try not to yell at you. Would this please you?"

"I would like that very much. And I appreciate it, Erik. Truly, I do."

He nods awkwardly.

"Now, do sit down. I will make us some tea, how about that?"

"I would not want to trouble you… I should not have awoken you, but I just could not wait until morning," he explains.

"Nonsense," I wave my hand dismissively. "Excuse me for a moment. Please, make yourself at home," I say, disappearing in the kitchen.

When our tea is ready, I make my way to the small table in my living room. Erik is sitting there, staring through the window.

"Thank you," he says, as I hand him his cup.

"Would you-" I never finish this sentence; I clamp a hand over my mouth, bursting into giggles. Erik seems to be extremely confused.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I… I nearly asked you if you would like to take some sugar in your tea!" I chuckle.

He closes his eyes and groans, "Oh, Lord!"


	21. Lâcher

_This was ridiculous! A twenty-year-old girl making demands!_

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Surely, you can spare me an hour, my dear Lottie!" I smile at Raoul, as he sits down on the chair in my dressing room. I simply could not say 'no' again; I did not mind it that much, truly.

But then again, I had not thought about him _at all_ until I saw him that night of my debut.

Hence, I cannot help but feel that our encounters are somewhat fake.

Nonetheless, our meeting is rather enjoyable.

"I was thinking…" he says at one point. "Would you like to accompany me to the spring ball my mother is hosting? She would be delighted to see you again!"

I chew on my lip. "Raoul, I do not think this such a good idea…"

"Whyever not?" He looks surprised.

_Well, how should I put it…_

"Oh." Suddenly it seems to dawn on him. "Christine, is there anyone significant in your life at this moment?"

This, I am not sure about.

But I do know that I have no romantic feelings whatsoever towards Raoul and it would be wrong to make him believe otherwise.

"It is just… I am not your Little Lottie, Raoul. So many things have happened when you were gone. So much has changed. You still see me as your childhood sweetheart, and I fear that the real Christine would disappoint you immensely."

"You are wrong," he answers, way too quickly.

"Deep down you know it is quite probable," I give his hand a gentle squeeze. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have got a voice lesson to attend to."

"Of course. It was a pleasure to talk to you, Lott– I mean, Christine."

I shake my head, closing the door after him.

"You can come out now, Erik."

The mirror slides open. "You knew I was listening?"

"Sure I did!" I giggle. "If I did not wish you to, I would have chosen a different place to meet with the Vicomte," I explain. "Now, are you ready?" I lift my eyebrow at him; Erik sighs loudly.

"Yes. Your sweet tea and biscuits with chocolate await downstairs. That was quite possibly the cruelest punishment I have heard of, Christine. Gaining your forgiveness is positively difficult."


	22. Rire

_Her childlike behaviour brought so much happiness into my home..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Oh, God, this is _so_ good," I moan wantonly, almost finished with my dessert. Erik rolls his eyes for the thousandth time since I came down here, calmly sipping his _bitter_ , might I add, tea.

I do enjoy teasing him, I must admit.

"You should try it," I say cheekily, pointing at my last biscuit.

"Please," Erik snickers. I cannot help but titter; he looks so classy in his black tuxedo and white mask, and then there is me: a giggling ballet girl with her face smeared with chocolate.

"Humour me!"

"Christine, I am too old to get so excited over chocolate. Besides, I hate candy."

"How can anyone hate candy?" I inquire, shocked beyond belief.

_I did not think it was even possible!_

"You are such a little goof-ball, Christine."

"I am, aren't I? I cannot help it, chocolate makes me deliriously happy. And you are not old."

"I am considerably older than you, though."

"What, ten years?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"I think fifteen."

"You think?"

"I do, yes. I cannot be sure, for my mother has never bothered to tell me when I was born."

"Oh," I hum sadly. "Well, do you want that biscuit? It will make you feel better."

"No, I do not," Erik sighs loudly. I am so proud of him; even though we touched upon the painful – as I can suspect – subject of his past, his eyes are still twinkling with amusement.

"Really? You do not want it? _Really?_ "

"I cannot eat with my mask on," he blurts out. "And taking it off would not be a good idea, now, would it?"

 _Oh_.

I am quiet for a moment, not really knowing how to respond. "Don't you worry. We will get there," I say shrugging, and taking a bite of the aforementioned snack.

I have never seen such hope in anyone's eyes. Blushing, I smile at Erik warmly.


	23. Plans

_She seemed to genuinely enjoy our time together..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"You can now consider yourself officially forgiven, Erik," I tell him some time later. "However, please do bear in mind that you do not have to prepare such marvels for me only when we are cross. Truly, I promise not to get angry if you greet me with chocolate, no worries."

I am almost positive he is fighting a smile.

I am overjoyed to be the one to actually do this to him. I cannot wait to hear his laughter. It is going to take some time, but I am a patient woman.

Well, most of the time.

"Do you truly believe I will keep candy at my house from now on?" Erik asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Oh, would it not be exquisite!" I close my eyes in delight.

" _Dear Lord_! Um, okay, we should probably have our voice lesson now."

"Must we?" I scrunch up my nose a little, not really fighting his decision.

"Since when you object practicing? We will have none of that!" Erik's voice is quite stern; he always does it when he is in his teacher-mode. I smile, nodding. "We can read a little afterwards," he adds after a moment. "I have got the most fabulous wine in my room which I would love for you to taste. How does it sound?"

"Wonderful!" I exclaim.

There is a certain difference between Erik and Raoul, I note.

I really love spending time with my Angel.


	24. Un Vin

_But how could I_ not _love her?_

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Perched on his comfortable sofa, I listen to the most interesting stories Erik is telling me, absent-mindedly sipping my wine.

He was right. It tastes heavenly.

"So, you mean to tell me Isis spent years travelling through Egypt to put her husband's body back together and bring him back to life?" I ask, overwhelmed with emotions. Erik must stop doing these things to my heart; surely he realises what a hopeless romantic I am.

"Well, it is just an ancient myth," he shrugs.

"But what a wonderful thing to believe in!" I sigh loudly. "Do you know more?"

"Plenty. But are you not bored yet?"

"Are you joking? I have not had so much fun in ages. You are an incredible storyteller." I can see his eyes shining with poorly hidden delight. It breaks my heart, though, for I suspect not many people have praised him before.

This needs to change. Soon.

"But before you start," I continue, "I shall refill my glass. If you do not mind, that is."

"Not at all, I am pleased to know the wine is to your liking. But allow me to–"

"Nonsense," I say, standing up. "I am perfectly capable of refilling my glass by myself, although I appreciate your offer," I smile softly at him.

Having poured myself more of that divine nectar, I make my way back to the couch. At some point, however, I feel my head spinning and I note with horror that I am going to lose my balance. Erik notices it, too; he rushes to help me, but he is either too late, or I am _that_ graceful, and as a result, we both land on the floor.

"Oh my God, are you okay, Christine?"

"Yes, I am," I answer tearfully. "Are you?"

"My poor, old back," he groans.

"You will live, Erik. But, oh dear, look! We have wasted so much of perfectly good wine!"

He is silent for a longer while.

"Christine, are you crying not because we almost broke our spines, but because you spilled some wine?"

"I am!" I nod, looking at him with a pout.

And then the most incredible thing happens.

Erik laughs.


	25. Doutes

_I hoped to God she had meant it._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Not only is the sound of his laughter utterly delightful, but it is also incredibly contagious. After a while I am chuckling so hard I need to lie down on the floor next to Erik, because I _cannot breathe_.

I have not felt so carefree and just simply happy since… Well, since my papa died.

The fact that he is a living, breathing man, who wants to teach me, to spend time with me, make me feel safe and content… It is heartwarming, truly.

"I am so sorry, Erik," I say after we finally calmed down. "I was just being silly. Is your back alright?"

"Oh, my dear, sweet Christine," he sighs, amusement still apparent in his voice. "I know that. But you were so adorably _devastated_ over that glass of wine, I simply… Dear Lord, I think it was the first time I ever laughed!"

_Jesus Christ._

I try not to let him notice just how sad such confessions make me. "I did hear you laughing whenever something bad happened in the Opera House."

"Yes, but it was for all the wrong reasons. I have never laughed just because something was funny. Or cute for that matter."

"You flattering fool!" I smile. "Come, I will help you up," I stand up, holding out my hand for him to grasp. He looks at it in disbelief, as if he was shocked I am going to willingly allow him to touch me.

"You are too weak, Christine," he protests quietly.

"Please. You have got no idea just how strong I can be if I really want to."

"Do you?" Erik asks, and I have got a feeling his question has a deeper meaning.

"I really do," I answer softly.


	26. Réflexion

_It was just so nice to have someone to talk to._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

After that particular evening, we fall into a pleasant routine. I go to the rehearsal every day and always strive to make Erik proud; then I visit him at his home, where we have voice lessons together, followed by some leisure time.

I am loving every minute of it. With every passing day, we are getting to know each other more and more, thanks to which he is becoming one of the best friends I have ever had.

_Not that I have had many…_

Nonetheless, I am quite shocked to discover just how _likeable_ Erik is. Knowing that he has done some terrible things in the past, having seen the way he threatens everyone in the Opera House, and just how unpredictable and dangerous he can be, I should not trust him so. And yet, there is no one else with whom I would rather be presently.

I cannot help by wonder whether I shall develop some romantic feelings towards him as well.

Raoul used to be my friend and nothing happened between the two of us, so perhaps such will be the case with me and Erik as well…

"I brought you a blanket and hot chocolate, Christine." Erik's soft voice snaps me out of these thoughts. "I fear it is quite chilly down here tonight," he explains.

"Oh, is it? I did not notice," I smile at him, taking the mug out of his hand.

"Well, I shan't take any chances." Erik shakes his head, wrapping a fluffy coverlet around my legs.

"You are too kind," I say.

He is clearly not accustomed to any kind of praises.

His delicate blush tells me so.


	27. Performance

_She was going to kill them, I was sure about that._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Christine, La Carlotta appears to be sick, therefore you will be performing as Elissa tonight," informs me monsieur Andre. I stare at him wide-eyed, not really comprehending the news.

"What happened to her?" I ask dumbly.

"Apparently she has lost her voice, but we do not know for sure. It was her maid who delivered the message, and she did not get into details."

A sigh of relief escapes me; for a moment there I suspected Erik had had something to do with that.

"Well, I shall leave you to prepare for the show now," the manager continues. "Good luck," he says, closing the door of my dressing room after him.

"Oh, God," I whimper, feeling the anxiety creep up on me. I am getting nervous and apprehensive, and I need…

"Stop worrying!" I hear Erik's voice.

_How did he even know…_

"Do you think I can do this?" I feel like crying, to be honest.

"Why, of course! Christne, don't be a child. You can sing, you can act, and you have practiced. We have been waiting for an opportunity like this one, aren't I right? You have to remind Paris you are better than Carlotta."

"You have so much faith in me…"

"And you trust me. Do you not?" He inquires.

"Yes, I do," I nod, picking at my fingers.

"So you have to believe in yourself just like I believe in you."

"Thank you," I whisper, smiling a little.

"Now go and change. And then make your teacher proud."

This, I intend to accomplish tonight.


	28. Félicitations

_And with every passing moment I loved her more._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

As I step behind the curtains, I am swamped with people congratulating me on my performance. I thank each and every one of them, and try my best to be patient, when, in fact, I want to disappear in the dressing room so badly.

The truth is, I need only one person's opinion.

"You were phenomenal, Christine!" Raoul approaches me at one point. I smile, thanking him. "Such talent! My mother would love to hear you sing" he continues.

"You should invite her to the Opera, then," I answer.

"So you have not changed your mind about that party I had spoken of earlier?"

"No," I shake my head, "I still think it is not the best idea."

"What a shame, though. You must be exhausted, so I shan't bother you tonight. I will see you around."

I nod politely, and then, _finally_ , enter my dressing room.

 _He_ is there.

Waiting.

Always waiting for me.

I am so nervous.

The night of my debut, I was so overwhelmed I depended mostly on my instinct. This time I tried so hard to remember his tips and instructions.

I hold my breath, just looking at him.

"You look faint, my dear," Erik states.

I roll my eyes. "Could you please stop torturing me? Have I pleased you?"

He is silent.

Slowly but surely driving me insane.

Maybe I am going to pass out, after all.

"Oh, Christine," Erik sighs loudly. "As if you were not the greatest soprano I have had the pleasure to encounter. You were… Outstanding."

I close my eyes in sheer delight.

_He did like it. I have made him proud._

_Oh dear Lord!_

"Of course, your rounded vowels do need some work," he adds after a while, with a smirk.

I burst out laughing.

"You are teasing me, you horrible, horrible man!"

"I am," he agrees. "Or am I?" Lifting an eyebrow at me, he slides the mirror open. "Come. I have got a surprise for you."


	29. Route

_She was bound to realise who I was._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"I see the Vicomte is still trying to persuade you into coming to that silly ball," Erik says at one point as he leads me to his house.

"It is not silly," I answer, shaking my head, although he cannot see it in the darkness. "I am convinced it is going to be a lovely party. I just do not wish to go there."

"Why?" Erik inquires.

"You know why," I sigh loudly.

"And yet the Vicomte insists. He ought to stop; we would not want the Phantom to visit him."

"Erik," I stop him, wondering whether he is still teasing me or not. "You cannot be serious."

"I have been patient and understanding. But the boy is pestering my student. And… my friend."

"You mustn't talk to him. Do you hear me?"

"Whyever not?"

I choke.

He must be kidding.

"You mustn't reveal yourself, for one! And I thought the Phantom was gone…" I add quietly. I am shocked to hear his vicious laughter.

"Oh, sweet, naïve Christine! Do you think that just because I have spent some time in your company, I have changed? I have not. I am the Phantom, and the Phantom is me. You have to remember about it. Always," he clenches his teeth. "I am a murderer, Christine."

"Not to me," I whisper pathetically.

"So you shall ignore this little detail just because you have not seen me kill anyone?"

"I… Can we not talk about it?" I plead.

"Yes," he agrees. "I ruined everything the last time, and I hoped tonight would turn out to be better."

"And it will," I say gently. "Just, please, let me fight my own battles."

"It is so difficult, though. You are so fragile, Christine."

"I am not. Can I see my surprise now, please?"

"Whatever my diva desires."

I can _feel_ him smiling, I swear to God.


	30. Surprise

_And it was the first time anyone has ever done that to me._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"I feel so pathetic," I can hear Erik muttering under his breath as I do everything in my power to stop myself from opening up my eyes. This exciting suspense is killing me.

And he is just prolonging my torture.

"Could you _please_ stop moaning, and just hurry?"

"Who is _moaning_ now?" I can almost _taste_ his sarcasm.

_That little..._

"This is so annoying," I screech, completely ignoring him. "May I open my eyes now? I shall go insane unless you allow me to do so, I swear to all that is holy!"

"You are such a melodramatic diva, Christine! You can open your eyes now," he tells me gently.

_Thank God._

Oh.

_Oh._

Now, this, I did not expect.

I am standing in the room which I have never seen before. It must have been renovated recently; the colours, the furniture, the knick-knacks put here and there… It is beyond lovely. I am speechless. But...

"I… I… I am not sure I know _exactly_ what I am looking at, Erik."

"This is your room, Christine. Remember? We talked about it a few weeks ago."

"We did, yes..." My voice breaks a little. I did mention to him something about having a place at his home, where I could spend my nights, but never would have I thought Erik would do something like that… Just because.

To please me.

"I also thought you would like to celebrate your success a little, so I got you some candy. I know all about your sweet tooth by now." He points at a huge, chocolate cake on the table in the corner. "Believe me when I say that the Phantom buying candy is a painfully awkward sight."

_How did I not notice that before?!_

"You do not like it," he says after a while, as I still fail to comment upon _everything_ he has done for me.

"What?" I giggle, and before I realise what I am doing, I've got my arms wrapped tightly around his toned torso.

I bury my face in his shoulder, still tittering with delight.

_How interesting._

I am hugging the Phantom of the Opera, and it is him who seems not to be breathing.


	31. Se étreindre

_It all seemed like a dream to me._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Are you angry with me?" I ask, my mouth mere inches from his ear.

"No, I am not," Erik answers.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

"No… I think I am not."

"Then why are you not hugging me back?" I inquire softly.

"I have never… _done_ this before," he whispers.

"You have never been hugged?"

"No, never."

"Well, all you have to do is put your arms around me."

He is quiet and so very still.

"Aren't you afraid of me?"

I giggle.

Cannot help it, really.

"Are you going to bite me?"

"Certainly not!" Erik huffs.

"Then why should I be?"

"Well… My… My face…"

"Erik," I sigh. "I hope you will understand soon enough that it has never been about your face. Your lies, your rage, your temper, yes. Never about your face."

He starts _shaking_ in my arms.

"Now, come on. Hug me back, because I am feeling very silly right now."

He does. His strong arms envelop me, yet he still seems quite wary.

"You can squeeze me a little, too. It feels nice."

This situation is so adorable and so heartbreaking at the same time that I feel like crying.

"It does feel nice indeed," he murmurs. "Does it mean we get to do this every time I make you happy?"

"Why, of course! Or when you make me proud, or when I make you proud. Or if you simply wish to hug me, for no reason at all."

"Really?"

"Yes. And whenever I make _you_ happy, too!"

"Oh, then I would have to be hugging you all the time."


	32. Joie

_Her sense of humour was peculiar, yet so perfect at the same time._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Our hug lasts longer than it is appropriate, but neither of us seems to care.

"You have got my permission to do that as often as you please," I say cheekily. "Now, we have to go upstairs."

Erik is obviously shocked.

"But… Why? You said you liked my surprise. Have I done something wrong?"

"Oh, you can be so silly sometimes," I sigh. "I have no intention of going to my _flat_. We just have to go to my dressing room so I can collect some clothes and all those things I need in order to get ready to sleep."

He still looks puzzled.

"I know, how easier would that be, provided I were a boy!"

"You are a funny, funny girl, Christine."

"I am almost twenty one, Erik. I think I cannot be called a girl anymore. Still, I have got no idea why you thought I would leave you. I would have to be a fool to miss an opportunity of sleeping in a bed like this one."

"I do understand what you mean now, so you can stop this nonsense," he chuckles.

_What a lovely sound, oh, dear._

"Splendid! May we go now, then? I am afraid that monsieur over there," I point at that delicious looking cake on the table, "is in a hurry."

"What _on earth_ are you talking about now?"

"He has got places to visit," I explain.

"What, Christine, uh, what places?!"

"My belly," I say, matter-of-factly.

He bursts out laughing.

_I have made him laugh again._

It makes me ridiculously happy, I admit to that.

"You challenge me every day, my dear. Let us go, then, because I do think I will need some wine tonight."

"So will I," I nod, grabbing his gloved hand and dragging him through the hall. "Oh, we are going to have lovely time!"

 


	33. Rêvasserie

_Never would have I thought it would hurt so much._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

Erik is sitting on _my_ new bed, watching me unpack. I have brought a few dresses and nightgowns from my dressing room, as well as some necessities, such as a hairbrush, a toothbrush and some cosmetics. I am ridiculously excited; I cannot believe I have got my own room in his house.

I feel so honoured.

My smile disappears when I notice that Erik is looking at me with a pained expression on his face. I blink rapidly, trying to figure out what could have made him angry.

"Erik, are you alright?" I ask quietly. To be honest, I am waiting for him to hit the ceiling.

_What have I done?_

He does not answer.

"You told me to make myself at home, so I... I, uh, do you want me to put my things somewhere else, or...?"

"It is nothing, Christine." His voice is eerily calm. "It is not your fault at all. I am just being delusional," he states.

I am quite puzzled. "What is it, then?" I sit next to him.

"Must you know?"

"I insist, yes," I nod.

"For a fleeting moment there, it looked as if you were _actually_ moving in. Permanently. I was thinking how nice it must be to have some company on daily basis. It felt good. How foolish, is it not?"

"Oh, Erik," I whisper, reaching for him. Erik stands up abruptly, though.

"I need a moment alone, Christine. Please, continue. I will join you shortly," he says, and then storms out of the room.

_Oh, Erik, indeed._


	34. Clin d'oeil

_How could I stay away?_

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

I do actually give him some time to calm down. I do not hurry as I change into one of the nightgowns I have brought down here. I also manage to freshen myself up and brush my hair quite thoroughly before I decide enough is enough.

I knock on his room's door before the courage abandons me.

"Christine, please be so kind as to leave me alone."

"No! I _demand_ that you join me right this instant!"

"I am afraid I am not in the mood," he answers.

"I do not care, truly! And if you do not come here, I shall cry my eyes out and I hope you know it will be your fault!" I yell.

Erik opens the door with such force it scares the life out of me.

"Don't you dare threaten me!"

I do not break under his stare.

"I am just stating facts. Do you want to spend this evening wallowing in self-pity, as I cry myself to sleep in the room next to yours? Truly, Erik? Truly?" I ask, and hold my breath as he clenches and unclenches his jaw.

This will either end really well, or really badly.

"You are something else," he says quietly after a moment.

I relax a little.

"I have heard that before; even Meg thinks I am a wee bit weird."

"No, no," Erik shakes his head, with a slight smile playing on his lips. "You are remarkable, Christine."

"Does it mean that you will join me and we will spend this evening together?"

"And what would my diva like us to do?" He inquires.

"You promised me some wine," I lift my eyebrow, giggling.

"I never break my promises, now, do I?"

"Excellent! And I shall get us that delicious cake. I can hardly wait to taste it."

"If you ever love someone like you love candy, he will be a very happy man, Christine," Erik chuckles.

I… Well, to my utter horror, I wink at him.

_How very ladylike of you, you foolish idiot!_

 


	35. Comportement

_She was making me feel so alive._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

I am horrified. I really, truly am.

I do realise I am not an example of a lady who always behaves in a proper way; one that is delicate, innocent and pure. I have got an odd sense of humour and sometimes say things that should remain unsaid.

But never would have I thought I would actually do a thing like this one.

I have just _winked_ at a man.

I want to die.

"Should I comment upon what just happened, or should I keep quiet?" asks Erik, clearly amused.

"I would be extremely grateful if you were so kind as to never speak about it ever again," I say, the tone of my voice calm and even.

"So you want me to pretend you are not wicked," he chuckles.

"Because I am not!" I screech.

"Oh, of course. Although, my sweet, dear Christine, the Vicomte would be terrified if you ever winked at him."

I huff. I hate when he mentions Raoul.

"I have no intention of winking ever again. Moreover, I am scared of _blinking_ in front of you! I fear you will think I am brazen!"

"Don't fret, Christine." Erik is having too much fun for my taste.

"You just make me so _mad_ ," I think I am chugging a little. I clearly do not take embarrassment well.

"Calm down, little one. You are like a kitten, aren't you? You are adorable most of the time, but you scratch when you need to."

"Either we drop this subject, or I am going to bed," I threaten.

_I really want to die right now._

Erik sighs, although I can still notice that silly grin on his face. "You go and get us that cake," he says, "and I will bring us wine. You were right. We are going to have so much fun tonight I can hardly wait."

"You just want to inebriate me, do you not?"

"I can neither confirm, nor deny."

I burst into giggles. Then I sigh loudly.

Perhaps I am simply not meant to be a lady, and instead am destined to cheekily tease Erik and be teased back by him.


	36. Enquêtes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you're liking it so far. Thanks for the kudos!

_I did not dare to even move..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

As I enter my bedroom to get the cake, I wonder briefly whether I am going to sleep in my corset tonight.

Earlier I did not have the chance to ask anybody to help me undress for I was in a hurry to see Erik as soon as it was possible. I simply changed into a nightgown, the corset still in place.

It is getting more and more uncomfortable, however, and I have no idea what to do. I cannot take it off myself, and I am quite certain neither Erik, nor myself would want _him_ to help me.

_Here's hoping I do not suffocate overnight._

After I have returned to the living room and sliced the cake, Erik enters holding two glasses of red wine. I sigh in sheer delight; these quiet evenings spent together do make me happy.

I still have got troubles believing we have become such good friends.

"Here is your piece, Erik," I say, as he hands me my glass.

"I will eat it later, thank you," he answers, sitting on the bench next to the piano. I frown deeply from my seat on the sofa.

"Why?"

"You know why, Christine," he chuckles humourlessly.

"You cannot eat without taking off your mask," I say quietly.

"Exactly."

"Does it hurt? You face, does it hurt?"

He is quiet for a moment.

"Sometimes. The mask is not that comfortable. It itches, too."

"I have got another question," I inform him. Erik tilts his head.

"You are being frighteningly inquiring tonight."

"Why aren't you sitting next to me on the couch?"

"I did not think it would please you," he confesses.

"Why would you think so?"

"Would it not scare you? To have the Phantom sharing a seat with you?"

"You are trying so hard to convince yourself I loathe you whilst it is not true, Erik. Come and sit next to me, please."

He is fighting it really hard, but finally he stands up and sits where I wanted him to.

We spend the rest of the evening talking about everything and nothing, with the fire in the fireplace making the room seem warm and filled with life. At some point, I ask, "Do you mind if I put my head on your shoulder?"

"No," Erik breathes.

I do so and mutter sleepily, "I don't even know what I would do without you by now."

He does not answer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my. Someone's gotta help Christine undress? I wonder...


	37. Tension

_It was the sweetest torture I have ever experienced._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

When my eyes flutter open again, my head is lying on Erik's shoulder and he is sitting still, mindlessly contemplating the flames.

"We should retire, Christine," he says, sensing I am awake. "My shoulder is not comfortable enough for you, and you must be exhausted."

"I am free tomorrow, you know," I croak. Surely it is not that late.

Besides, I am really cosy as it is.

"You've had a very long and tiring day. You ought to get some rest."

He _is_ right, though. I sigh deeply.

"Thank you for everything, Erik," I say, stretching subtly. "You have made me very happy."

"I am glad you wanted to spend some time with me," he whispers. "Now, off you go! You need your beauty sleep!"

I smile brightly at him and go straight to my room.

That is when it hits me.

_My corset._

I know I shan't be able to spend the entire night wearing that bloody thing and there is simply no other option. I have got no choice.

I need Erik to help me.

"Erik?" I ask, opening the door.

"Yes? Is there something wrong?" he inquires appearing in front of me.

"I am afraid I may require your help."

"Of course. What can I do for you?"

"Would you please come in?"

He looks puzzled, but he does so.

"Yes, Christine? What is it?"

I close my eyes for a moment, forcing my virginal self to stop begging me not to do this.

"This is going to sound wrong… Improper… And humiliating. Trust me, I shall be just as uncomfortable, but… I need you to untie my corset for me," I mutter finally.

He is quiet.

Too quiet.

"You want me to what?"

"Please don't get mad at me," I beg him. "It slipped my mind to ask somebody after the performance and now I have no choice, I swear, and I fear I will suffocate if you do not do this."

The thought of my discomfort seems to convince him it simply must be done. He nods his head, not meeting my eyes. I turn around and take off the nightgown; I am blushing so hard, for I am literally standing in front of a man in nothing but my corset and pantaloons.

This is _not_ how I imagined that moment.

When he touches me, I blush even harder, although I thought it was impossible. His hands are cold, and yet they _burn_ my skin.

I have no idea what is happening to me.

He is standing so close and he is taking his time and he is touching me and my breathing speeds up and my heart is racing in my chest oh god I feel faint.

There is so much tension between us, the silence is almost deafening.

I have never felt more alive in my life.

I can feel his breath on my shoulder when he finally finishes his job; I am clutching that corset for dear life. The last thing I want is getting completely naked in his presence.

_Or maybe-…_

"Oh, Christine," Erik says gently, his breath still tickling my bare skin. "You are my biggest reward and my worst punishment at the same time."

I gulp.

"Good night, little one," he whispers, leaving me alone.


	38. Douleur

_I knew better than that. I would never be good enough for her._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Despite how tired I am and how comfortable my new bed is, I cannot fall asleep. I toss and turn, and groan loudly every so often because it is past two in the morning and I am still wide awake.

Finally I decide to get up and go to the kitchen; maybe if I drink some water I will calm down enough be able to get some sleep at last.

I never reach my destination.

As I enter the hallway, I hear loud cries coming from Erik's room. Startled and worried half out of my mind, I run to his door and open it without even thinking what I am doing.

And there he is, sitting on the floor in foetal position, violent sobs racking his body. The mirror standing in front of him seems to have been smashed, for shattered glass is scattered all around him.

"Erik, what happened?" I ask him, horrified.

"Go away, Christine," he chokes. "I do not wish to be seen in such state."

"You're a fool if you think I will leave you alone," I step closer, and hesitantly put my hand on his shoulder. "Tell me what happened, Erik," I encourage him softly.

And he does.

"You were so nice and kind to me, Christine… No one has ever shown me such… _goodwill_ before. For a moment… I thought that… maybe, just _maybe_ you saw something in me… Something worthy of your attention… And I thought that perhaps I would see it, too… So I came here and uncovered the mirror for the first time in years… And then I lifted my mask… And, Christine… Oh, _God_ , Christine… _It was still there_!"

He starts weeping again. I drop to my knees and bury my head in his back, wrapping my arms around him from behind.

"The gargoyle has not disappeared… The loathsome monster is still there… How can anyone ever look past my face, when it terrifies even myself? I am repulsive, and it will never change," he whispers, his voice breaking.

"Erik, I…"

"Don't you remember that night? You screamed so loudly... You were so scared… I will never forget the disgust I saw in your eyes. Never, Christine. And the worst part is, I cannot even blame you for that."

"I was more scared of your anger, I have told you that before. You were yelling at me, and throwing me around like a rag doll. I can hardly remember how your face looked."

Now I am lying. Partially, at least. It is true that it was his fury I feared the most, but I do recall that his face was… not pleasant to look at.

"Don't think that you will distract me with your sweet lies, Christine. Not tonight. I am a monster, not a man."

"You are crying, Erik."

"So what?"

"You are showing an emotion that is more human than anything else," I tell him.

He turns around in my arms and clings to me as if I was the only thing keeping him sane.


	39. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I forgot to post a chapter yesterday, didn't I?

_She was going to regret every word she said._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

I was reluctant to leave Erik's house the next morning, but he insist upon me spending Sunday aboveground. I said I wanted to stay and make sure he was okay, at which Erik huffed and told me he was not a sissyish fop.

_Men and their silly pride._

Besides, I could feel he was barely controlling himself. Whilst he promised me he would keep his temper at bay, I did not want to provoke him. He did need some time alone and I was obliged to comply.

Therefore, I attended Mass and spent the rest of the day cleaning up my flat and reading some books. I also went to bed quite early in order to get some much needed sleep.

On Monday I was asked to join corps de ballet during the rehearsal because Meg had fallen ill and someone had to take her place. I was still worried beyond belief about Erik and his wellbeing thus I had major problems with following the choreography.

Needless to say, at the end of the day I am feeling worse than usual.

"Christine, come with me," orders Madame Giry when everyone is at last free to go. I bit on my lip, knowing she must be disappointed with my today's performance. I obediently follow her to her room and sit on the chair she points to me.

"Christine, I must say I am not sure whether I am fine with you spending so much time with… _him_."

I frown and clench my teeth. I thought Madame Giry was one of the few people that were Erik's allies.

"With _whom_?" I ask, the tone of my voice matching hers.

"You know exactly who I mean. I worry about you. And… _Erik_ is dangerous. I know he has been teaching you, still is, but you ought not to spend your whole days in his lair."

"I am perfectly–" I unintentionally raise my voice, but Madame Giry is not finished.

"The Vicomte is also concerned. We both think it would be best if–"

I interrupt her.

"The Vicomte has no say in this matter. I have made it perfectly clear that we are just acquaintances from the past and I will not allow him to interfere with my affairs. As for the amount of time I spend with Erik, it is also my business. He is my friend and with all due respect, Madame, I will not let you talk about him as if he was bad for me. I am so grateful you have taken care of me when I was a child, but I am an adult now. It is my life, and Erik is a huge part of it. Now, if you will excuse me."

I storm out of the room, gasping for air.

I am quite certain Erik is going to be very unhappy with Madame Giry.

 


	40. Apaisant

_And I would take care of those two. Soon enough._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

"Ah, Christine! Wait for me, Lotte!" I hear Raoul approaching me as I run to my dressing room. I am upset and distraught; I wish to spend some time alone in order to calm down.

Apparently I am denied.

"Raoul, I do not want to speak with you right now."

"Whyever not? I actually have some pressing matters to discuss. I am worried about you."

My lip trembles when I turn around to face him.

"I am sick of hearing this," I mumble pathetically. "Why do you all think I am unable to take care of myself? I have been alone ever since my Papa died. No one really cared about me. Now that I want to make my own choices, all of a sudden, people seem to be obsessed with worrying about me!"

"Stop with this nonsense, Lotte."

"My name is Christine," I snarl.

"See? This is exactly what I mean. You have changed. You are not the sweet Christine I know and love. You seem troubled and on edge. I want to help you."

"Growing up. These changes you see in me? It is called growing up."

Raoul shakes his head, clearly annoyed with me.

"Madame Giry and I both think your voice teacher has got bad influence upon you. You should consider cancelling this arrangement. It would be very beneficial for you, dear Christine."

"Do not make me choose, Raoul," I whisper brokenly, hating to cause him unnecessary pain. I love my childhood friend dearly, but he is crossing the line. I have had too much. "Do not make me choose. Because it will be him. It will always be him."

I turn on my foot, not wanting to see Raoul's shocked and hurt expression. I have no strength for that.

Thankfully, as I enter my dressing room, Erik is waiting there for me. I close my eyes trying to hold back the tears.

"I thought you could use… _a hug_ right now," he says, opening up his arms.

"I have had a terrible day, Erik. Truly terrible," I whimper, running towards him and burying my face in his fancy shirt.

"I know, little one. But you were so strong; I must admit I am proud of you."

"Can we skip today's lesson?" I ask, smiling a little.

"We can."

"May I spend the night at your place?"

"You may."

"And will you give me some cookies?"

"Absolutely not."

"It was to be expected," I sigh dramatically. "I know you are hiding them from me and if you think I will stop trying to find them, then you are wrong, Erik."

"Come on, you fool," he chuckles. "You could use a bath."

"That was mean," I squeak.

"I know."


	41. Changements

_She did not realise that when furious, I could not think clearly anyway._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

After a light supper, I sit down on the sofa whereas Erik chooses his grand chair instead.

"I guess the Phantom does have to visit the Vicomte and Giry after all," he starts.

"No, he does not," I sigh loudly. "You want to hurt him, do you not?"

"I was thinking about it, yes."

"Therefore, I am asking you not to do so," I tell him.

"And whyever not?" Erik seems shocked.

"Am I your friend?"

"A silly question, Christine," he raises his eyebrow at me.

"Well, if someone was trying to hurt me, would you let them?"

"You know I'd rather die than see you get hurt," Erik mutters.

"And thus I am asking you not to hurt _my_ friend. We have talked about this before. I told you I wanted to fight my own battles."

"I am not sure, however, if the Phantom is willing to listen this time."

"Must you be so difficult? I truly have no strength to fight with you tonight."

He shrugs, sipping his wine.

"You are trying to convert a psychopath. I simply want you to understand it is not going to work."

"What I really wish is to show that _psychopath_ ," I have troubles uttering that name, "that he does not have to hurt innocent people."

"They are hardly innocent, though. Attacking you like that; it was unacceptable!"

"Erik, I know you've had a horrible past. People hurt you and you hurt them back. I… understand that; at least I'm trying to understand and accept that. But this is past you. You do not have to behave that way anymore. All I ask of you is not to hurt anyone. Try to outwit them, threaten them a little if you must. But please, for my sake, do not harm anyone ever again."

"You are being ridiculous," he mumbles, standing up and turning his back to me.

"I will not be able to cope knowing that you killed someone, Erik," I whisper. "I will not bear it."

He is silent.

Seems to be frozen to the spot.

"I will not kill that boy," he says at last. "But I will talk to Giry. She will bother you no more."

I smile, relieved beyond belief.

"It is not that easy, though, Christine. You are still young and naïve. And you have never seen what I have. You know nothing about people's cruelty. I will not change just because you think I should."

_You already have. Not so long ago, no one would have had the power to stop you._

"I agree," I nod, and walk to him. "But I can try. Thank you."

He shakes his head.

"Are you staying with me tonight?"

"Will you have me?"

He turns around to face me and smiles softly, whispering, "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're ready for the unmasking scene, that is fast approaching!


	42. Promenade

_It was more and more difficult to pretend it was enough for me to be her friend._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

After Tuesday's rehearsals and our lesson, Erik insisted I spend the night in my flat because he's got some things to be taken care of and would not be able to keep me company. I whined like a puppy for a longer while, not wishing to go out, but finally nodded my consent.

It was after nine in the evening, however, and I was scared half out of my mind of wandering through Paris all by myself.

That was when Erik decided he would escort me to my tenement house.

"No one is looking at you, trust me," I tell him as we leave the Opera House. He seems to be nervous, though he has no reason to – Erik has changed his white mask to the black one, which combined with his fancy cloak and the late hour make him look completely normal.

Although, I must admit, I got so used to his masks, that I hardly notice them anymore. Which again gives me a sense of hope – perhaps if Erik gave me time to get used to his face, his deformity wouldn't matter either.

Only time will show.

"You ought to also offer me your arm, you know," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

"I am no gentleman," Erik answers.

"And I am no lady. Should I offer you mine, then?"

"Think you are funny, do you not?" He chuckles, letting me entwine my arm with his after all.

"You know I am," I giggle.

"We should not, Christine. People will think we are a… _courting_ couple. Which we are not," he mutters.

"Who cares," I sigh. "And they have got enough problems of their own to ponder whether we are friends or lovers, anyway."

Erik shakes his head.

"Oh, Christine, you make everything look so easy."

"It is easy. You just like to overthink everything."

"I wish you were right," he sighs, squeezing my palm with his free hand.

I look up to see the full moon shining so brightly in the sky and I _have to_ wonder what is that strange warmth that I feel inside my body every time I am close to Eriik. 


	43. Maladie

_How I have missed having her so close..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

It is late May when I fall ill.

During the rehearsal I tried to pretend everything was fine but, unfortunately for me, I fainted, causing quite a stir among other cast members. When I regained my consciousness, Madame Giry, who has been keeping her distance ever since our conversation, which was followed by a rather unpleasant lecture delivered by Erik when the two of them "met" in private, ordered Meg to help me get to my dressing room.

"You can go back, Meg," I tell her, lying down on my bed. "I can take care of myself."

"I would never leave you alone, Christine," she answers. I smile at her.

"All I need is to get some sleep. I will be fine, and you will only get bored watching me. I will let you know should I need anything."

She hesitates, but finally nods and leaves the room.

"I loath to tell you 'I told you so' but… _I told you so_!" I do not even bother to open my eyes when I hear Erik's booming voice.

Of course he saw everything.

How I _hate_ when he's right.

"Lower your voice or leave me alone," I mumble.

"Running around Paris like mad in nothing but your summer dress in the middle of the night! You are either crazy or completely careless. I cannot decide which one is worse."

I sigh loudly, remembering what caused me to get sick. Last night I got to perform in _Il Muto_ for the first time in the role of the Countess. I suspected Erik had sent some threatening notes to the Managers but I was too ecstatic to care. It was a mind-blowing experience, truly; the audience and my castmates loved me, and I was so proud of myself that when Erik was escorting me to my flat afterwards, I could not help myself but sing and dance and run around the park as if I were a child. I got drunk on happiness, methinks.

Erik would groan and grumble every so often, telling me to stop so as not to catch a cold, but he would also laugh at me and observe my ridiculous behaviour with delight.

Thus, he should shut up now.

"I shall be getting some sleep now, so farewell, my friend, whom I do not like that much at present."

"Can you stand up?" he asks, ignoring me completely.

"I should think not." Given that Meg practically dragged me all the way to this very room, I am decisively unable to do so.

"Then I will have to carry you to my house. My poor, old back…"

"I can stay in here, thank you very much," I huff.

"Mhm, yes. Over my dead body," Erik mutters and then I am being lifted from my bed. Instinctively, I put my arms around his neck and nuzzle my face into his velvet-like shirt.

"Now, this is cosy," I whisper in content.

"Perhaps for you!" Erik chuckles.

At some point of our journey, I finally fall asleep.


	44. Ordres

_I loved it when the kitten thought she was a tigress._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Erik?" I call out, my throat beginning to ache terribly.

Nothing.

"Erik?" I try again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

I clench my teeth in irritation before screaming with as much force as my trained soprano voice allows me to.

He enters the room seconds later. I smile in triumph.

"Is the house on fire, Christine?"

"I believe it is not," I answer, and cover my sore throat protectively with my hand, as if it could ease its pain.

"Then why on earth are you yelling, scaring me like that? I thought you were hurt!"

"Erik, I think I might be dying," I proclaim.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"Heaven, help me," he sighs. "Have you lost your mind? Why would you say so?" he asks.

"I don't know? It is a hunch. I mean, I guess one can tell when one feels one is dying, right?"

"You, my dear, are crazy," Erik says, sitting down on the edge of my bed. Carefully, he places his palm on my forehead and then on my cheeks. "You haven't even got a fever, Christine."

"Then why do I feel so… _ugh!_ " I growl, not being able to find a word that would best describe my current fettle.

"You will be just fine, truly, Christine. It is just a cold."

"You are right," I sigh. "I think I just did not want to be all alone in here."

"You did not even want to come to my house in the first place, remember?" Erik chuckles, stroking my hair hesitantly.

"I do not recall it…" I mutter under my breath.

"So you mean to tell me you didn't really think you were dying – you simply wanted me to be here with you?"

"I did suspect there was something really wrong with me…"

"Christine?"

"Well, yes. Are you happy? I want you to sit in this bloody room and tell me stories and make me tea because I am a strong, young woman who can take care of herself most of the time, but presently happens to be in a very vulnerable state and needs her friend, for god's sake!"

"A 'yes' would have been enough, but I guess that will do as well," he smirks, that idiot.

"Shut up and keep stroking my hair," I snarl and close my eyes, smiling contently as he obeys.

"You are the first person to ever give orders to the infamous Phantom of the Opera, you know?" I think he is more amused than amazed, but it does not matter that much.

"Good."


	45. Gratitude

_She was so beautiful when she slept._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

When I wake up, the clock on the wall says it is almost ten in the evening. I yawn and strech a little, looking around the room and finally notice Erik who is smiling at me softly from the chair opposite of my bed.

"You did stay with me," I state, surprised. I thought we were just joking and that he would leave me to mind his own business as soon as I fell asleep.

He did not.

"Your wish is my command, not to mention your order!" I think he is making fun of me, but I do not mind it that much right now. "How are you feeling, Christine?"

"I am quite certain I am not dying after all, therefore I feel quite relieved and well-rested, thank you."

"Ah, that is so good to hear," Erik answers, standing up and stopping right next to me. "Now, would you like to eat anything?"

"Not yet. But I would kill for a cup of tea."

"Oh, would you?" He raises his eyebrow at me. I blush when I realise what I have just said.

In front of the infamous Opera Ghost, no less.

The truth is, not only do I forget all about his mask, but also about the fact that my friend is, in fact, the Phantom.

He is simply Erik to me.

"I think it is not very responsible of me to strain my voice like that," I whisper, absolutely faking every pained expression I send his way.

"If you think I am not going to tease you about that when your _throat_ is well, you are mistaken."

"As my teacher, you should take care of my voice, should you not? Therefore, we'd better not continue this conversation," I answer.

"Whatever you say, my dear," he chuckles. "I will go and make us some tea."

As he turns around, I call out, "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for staying."

He is quiet for a moment.

"When I was a little boy and fell sick, my mother would send our maid to check up on me. She would order me to go to bed and drink some awful herbs, nothing else. And I remember that I never wanted anything more than to have someone sit by my side as I was feeling badly. So... Yes. It is nothing, Christine."

It is everything, though.

And I know _he_ knows it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unmasking time, eh?


	46. Sans Masque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonder if this time the unmasking will go better... :)

_It was so foolish of me..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

On Saturday, I decide I am almost completely healthy. It is very early in the morning when I roll off the bed, in which I spent the last few days, and begin readying for the day. First, I take a bath, after which I dress in a lovely blue dress. Then, I carefully brush my hair, promising myself to take care of its condition tomorrow; it could decidedly use some special treatment.

Such as water and shampoo.

_Here's hoping I'm just paranoid and in reality it is not that bad._

I shake my head, looking at my reflection in the mirror. It is so shallow of me to spend so much time on getting ready just to see Erik. After all, I have no dignity left anyway – I must have looked like a mess during my illness.

And yet, here I am, wishing to look presentable today.

I sigh, leaving my room. I intend to make us both breakfast, but hunger is long forgotten when I notice Erik sleeping on the couch in his living room.

It was after midnight when we finally parted last night; I was so engrossed in one of his tales, we simply did not notice where the time went.

He said he was going to read a little more.

I smiled and wished him good night.

He must have accidentally fallen asleep.

But that is not what makes me shiver.

His mask, apparently snatched off in his slumber, is lying carelessly on the floor near him.

I cannot help it.

I come closer.


	47. Habituant

_I did not even know what was happening._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Only few steps.

And just like that I am staring at Erik's unmasked face.

I gasp for air.

I know I have seen it before. But it all happened so fast; as I told him a while back, all I remember is his frightening wrath. I was so scared, so embarrassed, so confused that I can hardly recall any details.

It was so beyond my comprehension, my mind seemed to have erased this memory almost completely.

But now here he is.

My dark Angel without the one thing that gives him some confidence.

His faces is… ugly, for the lack of a better word. It cannot be denied. His flesh has a darker colour and appears to be twisted and distorted. Both, his nose and his upper lip are deformed either. His skin must be very soft and sensitive, though – at least I think so; it is hard to guess from distance.

It is unpleasant to look at.

It is.

But at the same time, it is a part of Erik. And I have grown so close to him, I feel his face is not an issue that could draw us apart. When the novelty wears off, it will be an ordinary face to me.

Besides, it is much less scary when he's not shouting at me and throwing me around like a rag doll.

I stare, and stare, and stare some more, trying to get used to it, when his eyes suddenly flutter open. I panic momentarily; I can almost _taste_ the fury that is surely coming my way sooner rather than later.

"Christine," he says drowsily. "What happened?"

Oh.

He seems to be unaware of not having his mask on.

After a moment of hesitation, I decide to play along.

"You must've fallen asleep here," I smile. "See, and you dared say I was a wimp for getting tired so early."

"You look lovely," Erik ignores my complaints. As per usual. "It is almost as if I were still dreaming."

"I might not have looked very appealing for the last few days, methinks. I can imagine why you think you are still asleep," I giggle.

"Let us forget the time of your illness. You were absolutely unbearable, Christine. If I hear you groan, _'Erik, I am so bored I might scream'_ once more, I might have to set myself on fire," he mocks, smiling at me.

It is amazing to fully see him smile for the first time.

It takes so much strength not to let him notice I glance at his deformity every so often.

"You are such a fool, good Lord. Anyway, I was going to make us some fancy breakfast, so if you'll excuse me," I inform him.

"I will freshen up a little and join you shortly, then."

I nod and leave the room.

Shaking with excitement, I begin to awkwardly, and somewhat frantically, look for the cookie jar that is hidden somewhere in the kitchen shelves.

I need some sugar. Quickly.

"Christine!" Erik's booming voice ceases my actions. I turn around to see him standing in the doorway, the mask in place. "I… You… _My mask!_ "

I can only beam at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...oops.


	48. Assommé

_I could not believe my dream was coming true._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Yes? What about it?" I ask, biting on my lip.

"How could you do that again?"

I furrow my brow, not knowing what he means.

"What did I do?"

"You… saw my face… again."

"You are not making any sense whatsoever, Erik. Was it not your intention? I mean, at some point I had to see it, right? Besides, it was a coincidence. I did not do that on purpose."

"How could I let this happen?" He groans, closing his eyes. "How could I be so careless?"

"I… I thought you would be happy," I whisper. I expected him to be proud and relieved, and we were supposed to spend this day together and… And now I am getting sadder and sadder.

"To be perfectly honest, I cannot cope with everything that I am feeling right now," Erik answers.

"Do you want a hug, then? I am an amazing hugger."

He smiles at me when I open up my arms in an inviting gesture, despite the war in his mind.

"You did not scream," he sighs, as I embrace him.

"I did not."

"You even smiled a little, I think."

"I probably did. You often make me smile." I rest my head on his shoulder.

"You did not even stare."

"I tried my best. I think I will get better in no time."

"You mean…"

"Definitely."

Of course I am going to insist that he doesn't wear his mask all the time from now on.

Erik is shaking in my arms.

"Now I must scold you, though," I inform him, trying to ease the tension between us.

"Why?"

"You've hidden my cookies. And I wanted to treat myself to some since I did so well."

"First of all, they're not yours."

"Ouch."

"Second of all, I just did not want you to get plump."

I freeze for a moment.

Then I dig my nails into his arm and he hisses in pain.

"I will not forget this comment any time soon, Erik. You will regret uttering those horrible words."

"You spend too much time with me. Your threats are more and more fear-inspiring. I must say I am proud of you."

"Good," I giggle.

"Christine?"

"Yes?"

"I am so happy right now."

I am, too.


	49. Ami

_A friend..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

After I, as Erik had put it, 'accepted his face', our friendship grew even… stronger.

I stopped ceaselessly wondering what was hidden beneath the mask and he did not frantically worry whether I would run away when I saw his face anymore. The tension between us was gone.

Still, Erik is awfully reluctant to take off his mask when I am present. I told him it was fine time and time again, but he remains stubborn. I suspect he does not want to press his luck, so to say.

Hence, I need to prove myself again.

As my birthday is fast approaching, I decide to bring up this subject after our usual voice lesson.

"Time is flying by, don't you agree?" I ask nonchalantly, sipping my tea.

"Yes, quite," he nods, raising his eyebrow at me.

"June will be here soon," I continue. "I can hardly believe it."

"So, do you want me to play along or will you just tell me what we are going to do on your birthday?" Erik chuckles.

I gasp.

"How did you know at what I was driving?"

"Christine, do you think so poorly of me? Of course I know when your birthday is."

"Men allegedly do not pay attention to such nuisances."

"How could I ever forget? Have I not been leaving you a red rose on your desk on that day, ever since I met you?"

"Well, indeed. I just thought you would overhear Madame Giry or the girls or something…" I bite on my lip.

"Every year? Please! I did ask her once. It was enough."

I smile at him. "You are the best friends I could have ever hoped for."

To my surprise, his smile falters a little.

"Yes, I suppose I am… _The best friend you could've ever hoped for_."


	50. Réclamations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOW, I don't know if anyone's actually reading it, but should that be the case: I'm so sorry for not having updated in some time. Uni stuff. Getting a BA is actually harder than it would seem.

_And that Giry brat made me realise how selfish I was._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Christine," Meg begins when the rehearsal is over. "You have not been… around much as of late. I miss you, you know?"

I sigh, squeezing her palm.

"I miss you, too," I tell her.

"Maybe we could spend this evening together? We will go to your flat and gossip like we used to. What do you think?"

"Oh, Meg. I would love to, truly, I would. But I am… engaged tonight. My voice lesson, you know. I cannot possibly miss it."

"You have got this hushed-up voice lessons every night, Christine. Nobody has ever seen your teacher, nor does anyone know his name. It is strange, you must admit it. Furthermore, when are we ever going to catch up if you are busy all the time?" She shakes her head angrily. "You used to have so much time for me in the past. What changed?"

I look around to ensure no one is listening to us.

"We, my teacher and I, have grown very close to one another," I whisper into her ear. "We are friends now. And I enjoy the time we spend together after my lesson is over."

"Oooooh!" Meg squeals. "Does it mean you are a courting couple?"

"I… No. No."

She seems to be somewhat disappointed.

"Well, I am your friend as well. And I wish you would spend some time with me, too."

I nod, agreeing with her.

"I will talk to him tonight. Perhaps we will be able to postpone our lesson tomorrow so that we may meet up."

"You do that!" Meg smiles at me. "I will see you soon, Christine."

This whole thing is a good idea, after all. I could definitely use a female friend right now.

Especially considering how confused I am as far as Erik is concerned.


	51. Echauffourée

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. But I'm a Bachelor of Arts now! :)

_She must've been crazy. And her birthday was going to be a disaster._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

Erik, the perfectionist, complains a lot after our lesson has ended. It is not so much about the progress I am making; he is furious with the managers and rants on their incompetence for a longer while.

I nod, offer some "yes indeed's" and "oh, yes, you are right's" when I feel they are necessary and wait for him to be done.

"I am glad you agree!" he huffs, sitting down in his chair.

"Why, of course!" _I have no idea what he's been saying, really._ "Please, don't threaten them."

"Too much," Erik adds.

"Too much," I smile. "Now, can you please take your mask off?"

"Positively not!"

"Well, I wish to speak to my friend, Erik. Not to my teacher, Mosieur Le _Fantôme_."

"Aren't I both?"

"I like seeing my friend's _whole_ face when I talk to him, you know."

"Christine," Erik seems to be getting more and more embarrassed. "Don't make me do this. I know that you… accept my face and, truly, you have no idea how _grateful_ I am for that. It is more than I could have ever hoped for. And it is enough."

"Is it?" I sigh.

"I cannot bear to see my own reflection in the mirror. I do not want to punish you with this horrendous thing whenever you visit me, my dear, lest you stop doing so."

"It is not a punishment, Erik. I want to see you again. Come on; do not deny me."

"No."

I raise my eyebrow.

"Is that your final answer?" I stand up. He does the same.

"Yes." I take a step closer. So does he.

"Shall I unmask you again?"

"You wouldn't dare," he snarls.

"Do try me."

_Oh God, the tension!_

"You are so stubborn!"Erik groans.

"So are you!" I giggle.

"Will you take your mask off?"

"I will. On your birthday."

"You are _horrible._ "

"Thank you. Would you like to have some wine?"

I shrug, nodding. If I cannot see his face, then at least I will drink something tasty, right?

I still feel incredibly disappointed, though.


	52. Anniversaire

_I have not seen her in four days. It physically hurt._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

After what seems like an eternity, my birthday finally comes. I wake up ridiculously excited; it is Saturday thus after this evening's performance I am free until Monday's morning.

Which means I can spend almost two days at Erik's place.

 _Which_ is… great.

Meg throws herself at me the moment I arrive at the Opera house. She hugs me with such strength I can hardly breathe and squeals so loudly I truly have no idea what she wished me. I am so very grateful and extremely happy, though; her support means a lot.

We did spend a few evenings together in the last couple of weeks. Erik made a fuss, but I managed to convince him to postpone our lessons so that I could meet up with Meg. It was a brilliant idea – I had not even realised how much I missed talking to her.

What those conversations changed in my life is that I have become more aware of what my feelings were doing, what they meant and what I should do about them. I decided to wait a little longer in order to be truly certain what I wanted from life. Nonetheless, I still cannot believe how blind I was.

How oblivious.

Well.

I am not the most well-liked person in the Opera House so I did not expect many people to wish me happy birthday.

Girls from the ballet are still mad at me and probably suspect I sleep with ever male in this place just to take over Carlotta.

The managers do not keep track of our birthdays, obviously.

Madame Giry is... She keeps her distance. A smile from her is enough, methinks.

Who am I kidding? I care very little about any of them.

I want my Erik.


	53. Visiteur

_She was truly an Angel sent from Heaven._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

The managers do bestow a gift upon me, after all.

I play the role of the Countess in _Il Muto_ for the second time in my life on the night of my birthday.

During the curtain call I cannot hold back tears; it really is what I have always dreamt of – to have people appreciate the effort I put in training my voice and improving my acting skills. And hearing the applause on this special day is indescribable.

"Lotte!" I hear Raoul's voice as I run to my dressing room in full makeup, with the Countess's dress still on.

"Raoul! I have not seen you in a while," I answer him. _Not that I missed you that badly._

"I did not want to bother you."

"I appreciate it. How can I help you?"

"I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I watched the tonight's performance and, Christine, you were phenomenal."

"Thank you," I smile warmly at him. "I am glad you enjoyed it."

"Oh, I did. I guess I should let you go now… There must be other people that wish to speak to you."

I think we both know who he has got in mind.

"I will see you around," I nod. Raoul hesitates for a moment before turning around on his heel and leaving me alone in the corridor. I shake my head sadly and then, biting on my lip, I open the door to my dressing room.

He is there.

Beaming at me from behind his mask.

With a single red rose in his hand.

And as he sees me, he whispers, "My Angel."

I burst into tears, feeling so very silly. But, oh dear, what else am I expected to do?

* * *


	54. Cogitation

_And in reality, I was a nervous wreck._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Then he is hugging me and telling me I was amazing and that he was gasping for air near the end of the performance.

Because I literally _took his breath away_.

I cry harder and harder with every passing minute, feeling happier than I have ever felt before. At one point I mumble something about getting his fancy suit dirty but Erik says he does not care about it at all.

And I wonder if he still loves me.

I cannot stop thinking about it. Wondering. Analysing his actions.

Yet I am too scared to ask. Because it will bring… consequences.

Such a question will destroy our balanced relationship and I fear I am not ready for this.

"Are you calm now, little one?" Erik asks.

"Yes, I think I am. I should have not let this happen but… oh, what a day!" I laugh a little.

"Indeed," he smiles at me. And I want to cry some more because his smile is just so bloody beautiful.

I need to see him without his mask on.

As soon as possible.

"I will give you a couple of minutes in private, Christine. Change into something else and get rid of all this makeup. It kind of… Yes, let's say it does not look that well right now."

"Ugh, you are the _worst_ when you want to delicately tell me there is something wrong with me."

"There is never anything wrong with you, my dear," Erik chuckles. "Now, off I go. Fifteen minutes! Then we celebrate your birthday downstairs."

_Yes._

 


	55. Une Bise

_And she was not afraid, not afraid at all..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

I am speechless when I finally get to see the living room; he decorated it with many, _many_ flowers. For a moment I fear he robbed a flower shop but it is my birthday and tonight I truly do not care at all – I will be asking questions tomorrow.

The table is set for two. The cake catches my eye almost instantly; Erik must notice my bubbling excitement because he chuckles softly and says, "Chocolate cake is your favourite, is it not? I figured that I have been hiding candy from you for so long, you can eat as much as you want tonight."

"Why, thank you! You are so good to me!" I laugh at him. "And for your information, I found biscuits in one of the drawers in the kitchen. Chocolate, on the other hand, is hidden behind books over there," I point at the bookshelf behind us. "You are the _worst_ at hiding candy from the queen of sweetness, Christine Daae!"

He actually gasps.

"I… I cannot believe you would… Oh, God, you are lucky I am so forgiving."

"Don't make me laugh."

"Well, I may or may not have a soft spot just for you."

"Now, that's more like it," I smile, hugging him. "Thank you, truly. Everything looks lovely!"

"Do you want your gift now or shall we eat beforehand?"

I bite on my lip, looking him in the eye.

"Erik, you know there is only one thing I want from you."

He sighs resigned. "And what would that be?"

"Please, take off your mask for me. You promised."

Erik is quiet for a longer while.

"My face is going to ruin everything, my dear. You will not be able to focus on eating… It is so…"

"I want to see my best friend so if you were so kind as to remove the obstacle…"

And he does.

At last.

And I am not scared. To my surprise, I can only smile at him.

I was right. Time does make everything better.

"Here you are," I whisper, beaming at him. "Hello, Erik!"

"Christine…"

I do not let him finish; I get to my tiptoes and kiss him lightly on the marred cheek, feeling him go completely still in my arms.

This is going to be an amazing night.


	56. Changement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important stuff: as of tomorrow, I'll be posting 5 chapters per day, because I clearly forget to update daily. So do make sure to start with the 57th tomorrow :)

_I..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

I would find his blank expression utterly adorable if I were not worried about his well-being; Erik looks so shocked and so lost that, for a moment, I regret having kissed his scars, no matter how innocent it was.

"You are going to kill me one day, Christine," he finally mutters. "That was the last thing I expected when I was taking my mask off."

I giggle quietly.

"I am quite unpredictable, I will give you that."

"You have got no idea," he agrees. Shaking his head, Erik lights candles on the cake. "Now, make a wish!"

I smile at him and close my eyes briefly; I do not want much, I guess. I just want to be happy.

_Doesn't everyone?_

When I look at Erik, he is smiling, too. And what is more, I truly do not find his face startling at all. It does not bother me, not one bit.

"You are staring, Christine," Erik grimaces.

"I am, aren't I? I was just thinking how silly I was."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"That night of my debut, when I snatched off your mask. You scared me so; your rage was truly terrifying. Then we started to… fix our friendship, but I was still afraid I would not be strong enough to look at you without fear, should you show me yourself without a mask again. Yet, here we are, and all I can do is smile because I _am_ looking at you. And I feel nothing but warmth inside of me."

Erik looks at me in awe. I flush with embarrassment; I must've sounded like such a _girl_.

"You have become a very intelligent young woman, my dear Christine," he says. "I am so proud of you. I still remember you as a twelve years old lost girl, so sad and so lonely. And now, look at you-"

"Don't do that!" I protest loudly. I am being ridiculous but this is _not_ something I want him to be telling me.

"What is it? I was just saying I was so happy to see how you have grown-"

"I said do not do that! Do not say things like that, do you hear me?!"

"Christine, I do not understand…"

_Neither do I._

"You are not my father, Erik!" My voice is getting louder. I can see anger flash in his eyes. "Stop treating me like a bloody child! You mustn't get all teary-eyed whilst telling me about my childhood, you mustn't!"

"What is wrong with you? I said nothing inappropriate!" Erik growls at me.

"But you did! I am not your daughter and I will not have you treat me as such."

"How should I treat you then? Like a diva?"

"I am a woman," I lift my chin, looking him directly in the eye.

"Oh," he laughs bitterly. "What would that woman have me do, then?"

"Kiss me."

"Excuse me?" Erik takes a step back, suddenly looking terrified.

But I am way far too gone.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" I groan, and the next second I am standing in front of him. "Do it, or so help me God."

He does not.

"Well, I was not going to ask twice," I tell that old moron and crush our lips together.


	57. Practique

_She didn't know what that meant to me._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

Growing up as a ballet dancer is quite different to growing up in an ordinary home, I suppose. Parents, especially mothers, teach girls modesty and propriety, whereas when you are on your own... Well, one can do nothing but listen to all those stories and rumours spread in the opera house. I, myself, have often been a witness of girls giggling about their… _love_ life, even if this love had been purely physical.

Hence, in theory, I know a lot about kissing. How it is supposed to feel like, how you are supposed to behave and such. Yet, theory is, indeed, nothing compared to practice.

What is happening to my body as I kiss Erik is insane.

At first, he is absolutely shocked. In true Erik's fashion – he does that every time I touch him unexpectedly – he freezes. He goes completely still and I am quite certain he is staring at me with his eyes open wide.

Thank God mine are closed.

His expression would probably convince me to stop, apologise and forget about it.

Which I shall not.

Then, after what feels like forever, he responds. Tentatively, his lips start moving against mine and it is the best thing I have ever experienced.

Sooner than we would like to, we break the kiss to take a much needed breath.

When I look at Erik, he stills seems shocked. Shocked, but incredibly elated.

"Christine," he gasps. "Why would you do that?"

"I don't know," I whimper. "But I am so glad I did."


	58. Intoxication

_I didn't dare to believe..._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

"Christine, we must stop this madness at once," he groans at some point. My eyes flutter open and I have got some problems with focusing on his words; I think Erik's kisses blew my mind.

I giggle at this thought.

"What madness?" I ask, trying to calm down.

I must be completely losing it right now.

"You are trying to prove something to yourself, I know you do. I do not know what it is, but I just–"

"I wish you stopped doubting me all the time," I sigh, leaning closer to him.

Erik is talking about stopping, yet his arms are still firmly wrapped around my waist.

I might have called him an old moron earlier tonight.

I was right.

"Y- You are trying to show me you are not afraid of my face, are you not? Or that it does not disgust you to kiss the face of Death. Well, I believe you. Now we can eat that damn cake already."

"You know, this may come as a shock to you – I am quite shocked myself – but I do not think I want to eat my cake right now," I murmur.

I think I am being wanton.

I do not mind it, though. Neither does Erik.

"What do you mean?" He is so adorably confused by this whole thing I want to laugh and hug him and also kiss him again.

"I think your kisses are addictive," I tell him.

He gasps.

"Christine, I am begging you, for the love of God, stop doing this to me. It is going to hurt so much when you're gone…"

"Good thing I am not going anywhere, then."

Where else should I be?

Where else should I be when the man of my dreams is holding me in his arms, kissing passionately?


	59. Hormones

_As easy as it had seemed to just drop the subject, I needed answers._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

Erik startles me when he clears his throat.

We have stopped kissing.

At last.

Unfortunately.

My lips are still tingling, though. I think a part of me has been awaken with those kisses; a part which is getting louder and louder with every passing minute.

Right in this moment, that very part is screaming at me to ask him to kiss me again.

Which I cannot do, for he made me sit down on my bloody bum and eat the cake. We must celebrate my birthday, he said, it took him much effort to prepare everything and he would like me to appreciate it.

I do! I truly do!

I just fear my hormones are taking control over me.

I am, after all, a 21-year-old woman who just discovered she really likes it when her voice teacher is crushing his mouth against hers.

I feel like somebody should've warned me that once I've tasted what kissing felt like, I would never be able to get enough of it.

"Christine, are you feeling well?" Erik asks. I notice he is watching me with concern clearly showing in his eyes.

"Oh, I am perfect," I answer lightly.

"Is the cake to your liking?"

"It is delicious, thank you."

"Then I think we should talk... about what happened tonight."

Here we go.

I knew he would ask me why I did this. Honestly, I think it _is_ time we talked.

I am afraid, however, that we will get into a fight. I fear he will get mad and close himself in his room and I will cry myself to sleep.

Or perhaps not. Maybe we will talk, we will be honest with one another, and spend the remaning of the evening snuggling on his coach.

I do feel the need to cuddle him now.

Almost as if we were courting.

I sigh.

Either way, tonight is going to be the turning point in our relationship.


	60. Chapter 60

_Why was I even trying to fool myself into believing this could happen?_

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

I study his face for a longer while.

"You say you want to talk about it... Yet you wish we did not have to, am I right?" I gasp. He looks as if he was undergoing a mental breakdown in this very moment; as if he was fighting with himself and was torn between what must be done and what he would like to do.

"I..." Erik hesitates. "I wish you had not kissed me, yes."

I gasp.

Again.

I sit up straighter in my seat and blink away the tears.

"I am... I apologise, then," I clear my throat. "I must've... misunderstood... I thought... I, well, it was rather silly of me."

I knew this was going to end up badly.

"Christine," Erik sighs. "That is not what I mean. I am not saying I did not want you to. Oh, god, did I want you to. I am saying I wish you hadn't."

"W-Why?" I am rather lost at this point.

"I am the infamous Phantom of the Opera. The entire Opera House fears me. They do as I wish because they are afraid of me. I have fought many people in the past; I have killed many, too. I am not scared of... anything, really. Not anymore. And then, there is you. And you make me feel things I do not understand, you make me feel vulnerable; you have got so much power over me, Christine. And you have no idea what your actions mean to me. You have no idea of what you are capable."

"And this is why you wish I had not kissed you? Because I have got the ability to hurt you?"

"Yes."

"I do not want to hurt you, Erik," I whisper brokenly.

"You do not know what you want," he answers. "And that hurts me the most. You are not ready to take the risk. And I am not sure if you will ever be."

Neither am I.


	61. Une Promesse

_She was the only one capable of giving me hope._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

I sigh after contemplating his words for a longer while.

"Come sit with me on the sofa," I tell Erik.

"Whatever for?"

"Please." He shakes his head but obeys; when I sit down myself, I pat the seat next to me.

"Have you heard any word I just said?" Erik asks tiredly. "I thought you would keep your distance."

"I shall not. Erik… do you love me?"

He looks as if I just slapped him.

The silence is quite overwhelming but I wait patiently for him to speak.

"Why would you ask?"

"You told me you loved me, back when I first saw you in person. It has been quite a while, and I think we have got to know each other better. I am curious if you still feel this way about me."

He does not reply.

I try again.

"Erik, do you love me?"

"Christine, I haven't got the strength to do this right now…"

I smile at him.

"You know, I understand everything you told me. I see your point. You think… these feelings will make you weak. You still want to be feared, and you are afraid I would use your love for me to hurt you. I would never do that, but I need to know. So, Erik, do you love me?"

"I do," he whispers at last.

I grab his hand and squeeze it gently.

"This is the best birthday gift I ever received."

Erik raises his eyebrow at me, clearly having expected a different reaction.

"Remember when I discovered you were not an Angel and you gave me time to get used to this? To come to terms with you being a mortal man? You did not push me, you allowed me to get ready to face you again on my own. I… I ask you to do it now as well. Give me some time. And next time you tell me you love me… I _will_ say it back."

The kiss that follows my speech does not surprise me at all.


	62. Blagues

_She was so ridiculously adorable in the mornings._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Time flies by.

We continue to explore our relationship.

Or lack thereof.

We do not exactly talk about that night, but we do have some kind of an understanding that we are more than friends now. Erik does as I asked – he gives me time to figure everything out on my own.

I hope I can give him some sort of a declaration soon enough.

It is late July when a knock on my room's door awakens me.

I am spending the night at his place, which has become a habit since my birthday. I spend more time in his home than in my own flat. I try to explain this fact by pointing out that it is simply more convenient, since he lives – literally – underneath my workplace, whereas my flat is quite far away from here, and I am too tired after the performance to get there.

He teases me I like his home too much to leave willingly.

I do not agree with him.

Mostly because I hate when he's right.

I get to a sitting position way too quickly, black spots dancing in field of my vision.

"Yes?"

"May I come in?"

"Please."

Erik walks in, a silly little smile playing on his lips.

"It is almost midday, Christine. Shouldn't you get up?"

I blink rapidly.

"Oh God, what day is it today?" I ask him, confused.

"Wait, now, let me think…"

"Jesus Christ, if I am late to the rehearsal, Madame Giry is going to kill me," I moan as I get up, trying to cover myself from him out of modesty.

"Calm down, little one. It's Sunday, you are free today."

I sigh, relieved.

"You knew it all along, did you not?"

"Might have. Perhaps I wanted to see you panic."

"You are truly, truly horrible!"

"Better messing with you than terrorising innocent people, right?"

I gape at him for a few seconds and then burst out laughing.

His sense of humour is sick.

I love it.


	63. Impérissable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the whole "I don't do angst, I'm a fluff person myself"?  
> Yeah, about that....

_..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

That people do not expect anything to happen to them is a well-known fact, methinks.

We do not leave our flats suspecting that we may never return, that we may never see our near and dear ones ever again. Nor do we lie in beds at night time, wondering if the next day would be our last. We do not do those things – we would go insane.

People unconsciously believe themselves to be imperishable.

This is the reason why, when something does indeed happen to us, the shock is so overwhelming.

When I was leaving his house this morning, Erik told me he would be waiting for me. He said he would make us tea so that we could drink it together once I've finished the rehearsal, and then he would draw me a bath.

I was giddy with excitement.

Raoul briefly asked me why I was so happy and I only smiled in response.

The evening was supposed to be filled with laughter – as it happened more and more often when we were together.

Life had other plans, apparently.

For here I am, desperately gasping for air as I get to his house. I thank God that Erik showed me the way so many times, saying I should know the corridors as well as he does so that I could visit him as I please.

And he is lying on the floor, covered in blood.

Unmoving.

And I have no idea what to do.

I do not know what happened or how to help him.

Hell, I'm not even sure if he's still alive.

Yes, this is exactly the reason why we do not think about these things.

It would drive us mad.

 


	64. Blessures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank God I'm posting 5 chapters at once, eh?

_..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

I finally snap out of my stupor and the only thing on which I can focus is how I can help Erik.

I rush to his side and with a trembling hand I check if he is... alive and well; I try to ignore the ridiculous amount of blood and mud surrounding him.

I could almost weep with relief when I make sure he is, in fact, breathing quite steadily. It certainly calms me down a little.

"Erik," I try calling him. "Can you hear me?"

He grunts in response.

"Oh, dear, whatever happened to you," I whisper. I know I have to tend his wounds, ascertain he is no longer bleeding and somehow get him to his bed. This is going to be quite difficult, I fear.

But this is Erik.

My Angel of Music.

The only person that has ever been there for me.

My best friend.

The man who is in love with me.

There is nothing I would not do for him.

Especially considering the fact that I am the only one that cares for him.

"It's going to be fine, sweetheart," I tell him. "You will see. You are going to be fine."

"Bathroom," he groans. "Y-you will find… every-everything. My arm. And s-side."

I nod and rush into action. Erik is alive, but more importantly he is in pain and I have to do everything in my power to relieve him.


	65. Aider

_And she stayed._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

I do not sleep a wink that night.

The most difficult task is not, surprisingly, getting Erik to his bed. He helps me as much as he possibly can, hissing in pain and panting as if he'd run a mile; I thank God for the strong muscles the ballet training gave me because, despite his efforts, I literally drag him to his room.

However, yes, this is not that difficult. The hardest part is tending his wounds. He is severely bruised, ugly purple marks marring the better part of his torso. There are also several cuts, the worst one on his arm. Thankfully, these cuts are not very deep and do not need stiches. I have no idea what I would do if they did; I doubt any doctor would want to treat him.

This realisation angers me. He is, after all, a human being.

Covered in dirt, bleeding and bruised, Erik makes a horrifying image; I want to cry and hug him and make the pain go away, but alas, I cannot so I try to be as gentle as I am capable of being.

Erik is mostly unconscious as I clean him up.

When I am done I finally notice that he hasn't got his mask on. I bite my lip, wondering whether whoever hurt him did so after having unmasked his face.

I shudder at this thought.

At some point Erik opens his eyes, but still not without difficulty.

"You are here," he says, his voice rough. He sounds surprised.

"Of course I'm here," I answer him, caressing his marred cheek.

"I thought you left."

"How could I when you need me?" I ask. "Are you feeling better?"

"Not really. _Everything_ hurts."

I sigh.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I'd rather not," he closes his eyes and I want to insist, but he is so weak I decide against it.

"Will you tell me later?"

"Perhaps. Christine?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for staying. No one has before."

This is when the tears fall down.


	66. Vérité

_I shouldn't have told her..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Convincing Madame Giry to let me skip the rehearsal proves to be extremely difficult. She is not thrilled at all; I still remember that she disapproves of Erik and I's friendship. Nonetheless, her conscience does not allow her to disagree – she knows someone has to take care of Erik and whether it is because of their history, or because she knows he would be furious with her if she said "no" to me, she allows me to call in sick.

I hope Raoul will not wish to visit me to check up on me.

Both my flat and my dressing room would be found empty.

Erik feels a little bit better now. He tries to stay awake for longer periods of time, but he is still very tired. When I scold him, telling him to rest, he says he does not want me to bore myself to death watching him sleep.

He is being silly.

Despite my poor cooking skills, I manage to make a fairly decent chicken soup – if I may say so myself – so I wake him up in the afternoon and help him sit so he can eat it.

When he is done, I help him lie back again and take a seat on the edge of his bed. I take his hand in between mine and ask him, "Will you tell me what happened?"

"Must I?"

"I would like to know. You scared me very much, Erik."

"I know and I'm sorry… If you have to know, when you left me that morning I promised to be waiting with hot tea, remember?"

"Of course," I nod.

"Well, I figured you'd be rather hungry after the entire day of rehearsals so I thought it would be nice to fetch something for you to eat and your sweet tooth is no secret to me at this point… I wanted to go to the bakery and buy us some cake or something. But it was so early, so bright… I did not think… I thought people would leave me alone."

I bite on my lip to prevent myself from crying.

"They did not," Erik continues. "There were some men, two of them, they cornered me in an alley. I had my Punjab lasso ready, you know. But then I remembered… You had asked me time and time again not to use violence. You had wanted me to change and I wanted to be better for you. I thought that perhaps I could flee… Or hurt them enough for me to run, but not enough for them to die… Turns out, I was not fast enough. They tore off my mask and well, the scenario is _always_ the same. Horror, disgust, insults, then fists. I think there was a knife involved, but I cannot recall much details. Anyway, they got bored quite soon so they left me alone to rot. I had only enough strength to get to the corridors and then crawl in here. Then I blacked out. That's it. I wanted to spare you this story, you know?"

I am _choking_ on air.

Suddenly, it is too hot in the room, and I gasp for breath, but I cannot get the oxygen to my lungs because I am hit with the realisation that Erik got hurt because of _me._

"Christine, are you well?" He asks worriedly.

I am not.


	67. Essayer

_I tried my best._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

I wake up with a start.

I was not even aware I actually drifted off. It was to be expected, though – I have not slept in ages, first looking after Erik and worrying about his well-being, then crying rivers as I realised he got hurt because of my silly moral advice.

I groggily lift my head and instantly blush; I am sprawled atop Erik, holding him for dear life. I doubt he minded it, for I do acknowledge the fact he loves me; still, the propriety should be maintained.

"You're awake," Erik says, smiling softly at me.

"I apologise," I sigh. "You probably did not rest very well, with me putting unnecessary weight on your sore body."

"No matter. You are a wonderful caretaker."

"I'm glad. Erik, I…"

"Please, Christine. I know. You are sorry. You have no reason to; it was my choice. So please, do not apologise to me."

"You do not understand. I am calling it off."

"What exactly?" He seems to be confused.

No wonder why, I am not making any sense whatsoever.

"I am calling it off, all of it. I will not have you put your own life in danger on my account. I was so delusional! I told you time and time again I would leave you should you commit another crime. You told me I would never make you… my puppy, I think this is the term you used once. And yet, I kept repeating myself, telling you not to use violence. But how can I tell you what to do and what not to do if I have never been put in your position? My face is… normal. And I want to force the norms of the society I live in upon you, not caring that this very society caused you so much pain in the past… So I am calling it off. Do not ever listen to me, please. Just… do whatever is necessary for you to be well. And spare me details. I will not ask. I may not like it, but you are more important to me than anything else. Besides, those who purposely hurt you deserve whatever awaits them."

He stays quiet for a long while.

"No, they do not."

"Excuse me?"

"If you taught me one thing, it is forgiveness. You've forgiven me quite a few times in the past, so I am, too, trying very hard to find forgiveness inside of me. That's why I will not try to find those bastards when I get better. I will move on with my life and stop dwelling upon my past. I have had a terrible, _terrible_ childhood and the better part of my adult life has not been any better either. But my present is quite… _good_. And this is what I shall focus upon."

"Oh, Erik…"

"I am trying to be a better man, I am."

"You already are."


	68. Raoul

_I heard and I was so proud..._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

I cannot pretend to be sick for too long; Madame Giry can only help us so much. Two days after I found Erik on the floor in his house, I show up at the rehearsal. I try to do my best, I do – but it is difficult as I worry about Erik's well-being.

He told me I was being overprotective.

Well, perhaps.

It is high time someone actually made a fuss over him, though.

As I head to my dressing room when we are finally free to go, Raoul stops me. He tells me we need to talk, urgently, and basically drags me to the room.

"That hurt," I snarl at him, rubbing my forearm.

"How is your illness?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Better now, thank you," I answer, trying to sound convincing.

"You are a bad liar, you know that? You have not been sick, Christine, have you? You were helping _him_?"

"Why would you say that? Besides, I do not wish to discuss my private matters right now, Raoul."

"Madame Giry and I hide nothing from one another. And our concerns about your… association with that man are still very much valid. Christine, this has got to stop!"

"You must be joking," I squint my eyes. I cannot _believe_ they still think me a child that has to be taken care of. Did I not have this discussion with Erik not so long ago? "I am my own person, need I remind you? No one is going to impose anything upon me."

"If you just considered allowing me to court you, Christine. It would solve all of your problems. We would get married, you would want for nothing. And you certainly would not owe anything to that man."

"Are you proposing to me?" I ask incredulously.

"I could be, yes."

"My answer is no."

I doubt he suspected I would agree, yet he still seems shocked.

"And why would you say no?"

"I do not love you."

"But I love you. And my love would be enough for us both, Lottie."

"I asked you not to call me that. You know what? I am done. I am finished. I tried time and time again, I tried to justify your actions, tried to understand you, gave us the chance to remain friends, but this ends today. I do not wish to speak to you ever again, do you hear me? I tried, Raoul, tried so hard. But you do not respect me, my wishes, my opinions and choices."

"Because your choices are wrong!" He raises his voice, losing his patience. "This man has convinced you to leave everything behind so he can have you all for himself! He does not care about your life here. He wants you only with him!"

"Tell me, Raoul. If I married you, could I still sing?"

He does not understand why I ask him this right now, but indulges me. "I do not think it is a respectable… _job_ for a Vicomtess."

"See? And he would say the choice was mine. I may be a woman, Raoul, but I can think for myself. Now leave."

"I am this Opera's patron, do not forget that. You do not want to cross me."

"I hope you're happy one day," I smile at him, ignoring his threats.

And with that, I close the chapter of my life entitled "Raoul."


	69. Sincérité

_I want her to fall in love with me, but at the same time she deserves so much more._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

I cannot bring myself to pack and go to my flat that night. I was planning to, because I wanted to give Erik some privacy. I have spent two days by his side, not leaving him for a moment, so I thought now that he felt better, we should part for one night.

But I cannot.

I need my friend.

When I enter his house, he is sitting in the chair in his living room. As he notices my entrence, he puts away the book he was reading and looks up at me, raising his eyebrow.

"Christine? I thought you wanted to go home tonight?"

"I did. But things… happened, and I wanted you more."

He smiles at me, telling me to make myself at home.

"You look better," I comment, sitting down on the couch and then rest my head on the pillow. "How do you feel?"

"I am fine, truly. You have been a marvelous nurse."

"Thank God. I was really worried."

"I know. So… you wish to tell me what made you so upset?"

"Raoul visited me today. Or, rather, forced me to talk to him."

"Truly?" Erik gasps softly. I study his face as I know something is wrong. He is… too calm.

"Oh my God," I whine. "You eavesdropped!"

Lying must be a compelling option, as he seems to be quietly considering different scenarios, but after a moment he sighs and nods. "I was. You cannot blame me, though; I have let those two fools run my opera all by themselves for more than three days. I simply had to check upon them!"

"And somehow you ended up listening to the conversation taking place in my dressing room." I am not that angry; I just have to make him understand he should not do it.

"Your voice carries?"

"Erik."

"I apologise. I should not have, but nonetheless I am so proud of how you handled him."

"Why does everyone think I am so weak and breakable that I have to be protected from the world? And why you were the only one who cared about me when I did actually need it? After my papa died? They weren't there for me. Truly, Erik, now I am an adult, am I not?"

"I confirm, you are an adult. I think it is more about with whom you spend your time rather than about your fragility."

"Well, this is my life."

"You know, I probably would advise you against associating with people like me either."

"Hush."

"I'm not an idiot, I will not tell you to go. But before you make any decisions, please do take your time thinking them through."

"I will," I promise him. "Now, I need either candy, or wine. Do you happen to have any?"

"I do," he chuckles.

"That is why you are my favourite."


	70. L'amour

_And I almost managed to convince myself that simply having her in my life would be enough._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

It is a few days later when I realise I am in love with Erik.

Well, perhaps, _realise_ is a poor word choice. I _acknowledge_ and _name_ my true feelings.

It was to be expected; I was trying so hard not to fall for him, I have fought it tooth and nail, but there was no use. Despite his flaws and a horrible past, he has proven to be the only person I can truly rely upon.

And the only person who respects my choices and cares about me. Genuinely cares about me – not in that sick way Madame Giry and Raoul claim to do so.

The discovery, it happens so… naturally. I am sitting on the couch in his living room, reading a book after a tiring voice lesson when he brings me chamomile tea. As he sets the mug on the coffee table next to me, he smiles gently and says, "I think your throat deserves it."

"Thank you," I answer, returning his smile.

"No matter. It is the least I can do for my muse."

"Your muse?"

"I have been up all night composing. You truly inspire me, Christine."

"You mean my voice inspires you," I titter. "The one you yourself have trained."

"No, it is not _just_ your voice. It is you. _You_ inspire me."

Tears cloud my eyes as I look at him. I take his hand in mine and kiss it softly.

"Now, drink up. Do you care for a blanket? Are you not cold?"

"Thank you, no."

"Call if you need anything."

As he disappears in his study, I sit back and think about all these little things he does that show me the depth of his love. He has said it out loud, yes, but it is not everything – he does not need words to express his feelings. He listens to me, takes care of me, would probably do anything for me.

And I, in turn, would do anything for him.

I love him.

I love the infamous Phantom of the Opera and everything that he chooses to be. Every part of him.

Now I just need to find a perfect time to say those words to him.

He has waited for so long.

He deserves this moment to be special.


	71. Paroles

_I was quite sure I didn't hear her right._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

Days pass and I still cannot come up with the perfect moment to tell Erik I love him.

It drives me mad, really.

I do not know how on earth he does that; how he manages to bottle up his feelings and behave like a gentleman around me, just because I asked him to give me time.

I fear I shall explode if I do not let him know soon.

* * *

Saturday's night is spent mostly on me pacing around and muttering curses under my breath. Then, I move on to raging and screeching; Erik remains unaffected by my anger.

I stop in the middle of my tantrum and glare at him; he doesn't even look up from his newspaper.

"Erik! Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, of course I am, dear."

"What did I just say?"

"It is hard to make out words from your little hysterical outburst, you diva," he answers calmly.

"Well, are you even surprised I'm mad? Why is the Phantom not blackmailing the managers as we speak?"

"He is not because you are overreacting. These fools, for once, made a good decision. You fell during the rehearsal and got a nasty bruise on your face, did you notice that, Christine? No amount of make-up would ever cover it. Carlotta needs to take your place tonight."

"But I have worked so hard!"

"So you have. There will be many occasions for you to perform as the lead, dear."

"I don't like it when you're so calm," I squeak pathetically. "It makes me feel silly."

"Oh, but you are being silly," he chuckles. "Come on, do you want some candy?"

"No."

"You do not?" he gasps, clearly mocking me. The side of my mouth twitches a little; I shan't laugh, though, I cannot give in. "Wine, then?"

"No, thank you. Neither candy nor wine will ever heal my wounds."

"Oh my God, you are such a drama queen!" Erik raises his eyebrow at me and stands up.

"Do you honestly think such mundane things would help me?"

"As far as you are concerned, there has never been pain greater than what candy and wine, preferably together, couldn't take care of."

"I swear to God, Erik, if I didn't love you, I would punch you in the face, no matter how unladylike that would be."

I regret uttering those words as soon as they leave my mouth.

It was supposed to be different, oh good lord.

"I… I am so sorry, oh my, I was going to wait… And… find a perfect moment to tell you… and...I am so sorry, it was supposed to be…"

"Did you just say you loved me?"

"I… did. I do. Yes." Tears well up in my eyes as he rushes to my side.

And then Erik falls down to his knees right in front of me and buries his face in my dress.


	72. Aveu

_All of my wished were suddenly coming true, and I had no idea how to deal with it._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

I am not sure what to think about his reaction.

I do not know whether he is crying because he is so happy, or so... disappointed? After all, he has been showing me his love at every step, and I just sort of let it slip in the middle of our casual conversation. Certainly, it is not the most romantic way of expressing one's feelings.

"Erik," I mutter, sinking to the floor next to him. He is still clutching the hem of my dress in his fist and mumbling sweet nonsense under his breath.

I am rather distressed.

"I am so, _so_ sorry," I say. Again.

This snaps him out of his daze and he angrily snatches his mask off his face, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Whatever for? Are you sorry because you did not mean that, and now you are going to break my poor, old heart? Or rather you are sorry because your feelings are, indeed, true and you wish they were not? Are you sorry for having fallen in love with a monster?" He cries out.

"No, no!" I assure him hurriedly. "It is just... I wish I had said these special words in a more... appropriate setting. I wanted that moment to be utterly flaw-free!"

He shakes his head at me, chuckling humourlessly.

"Silly, little Christine. You could have written these words down and sent it to me in a letter. And it would still be perfect."

"How so?" I giggle. "It would have been extremely impersonal and impolite, especially given the importance of that message."

"Don't you see," he murmurs, taking my hands in his. "All my life — and I mean it _literally_ — I have dreamt of only one thing. I desperately longed for you to love me back. I have never wanted anything else, truly. Life has taught me I, being the spawn of devil that I am, should not expect much. But I still dreamt of you. And now you are here, and you are telling me you feel the same about me... Oh, Christine, say it again? Prove me I am not asleep?"

"I do love you," I whisper sincerely. "The Angel, the Phantom, and the Man."

* * *


	73. Sérénité

_I could barely contain myself!_

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

When we both calm down enough, we curl up on the sofa and spend the rest of the night cuddling. Erik is tentatively brushing his fingers through my hair, and I have to admit that I have never felt safer than being wrapped in his arms.

"I cannot believe this is happening," he murmurs at some point. I stir, apparently having dozed off.

"What exactly?"

"You. Me. This combination seems crazy."

"Truly? I don't know, Erik. You are talented, intelligent, witty, and have lots of candy hidden all around your house. A girl cannot help herself but fall for you."

"I never cared for just any girl. I wanted _the_ girl."

"Well, the girl is yours now," I giggle, snuggling against him.

"I do not want you to be mine," he answers. I look up at him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to be yours, Christine. You are a grown-up, brilliant woman. I do not want you to become my possession. You are free to do whatever you want to, and I will be honoured to be the man you choose to be with."

I blink.

"Men usually… do not tell that to their significant others."

"I am not _them_. I want us to be… partners. God knows, you can manhandle me."

"I know," I titter. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_. For choosing me."

"I am only sorry it took me so long."

"I'm not. It was worth it in the end."

I bite my lip, wondering whether or not I should tell him what I desperately crave at this moment. He seems so serene, so at peace with everything around him, that I fear my request will disturb him.

"I can almost hear the wheels in your head turning, Christine," he chuckles. "What? Do you want your chocolate now? Or would you care for some wine? I'm your obedient servant tonight."

"Oh, you are now?"

"Just do not get used to it. Partners, remember?"

"Please. The entire opera house know you've got a soft spot for me."

"I do love you," Erik says matter-of-factly.

I melt.

"Then kiss me."

He gasps.

"Kiss you?"

"Don't you want to?" I ask innocently, beaming at him.

"You bet I do," he rasps, his lips crushing against mine with ferocity and passion I would have never dreamt of.


	74. Commencement

_I had all I ever wanted, and I was terrified someone would take it away from me._

* * *

_**{Christine}** _

"Christine, you should reconsider the things you said to Raoul," Madame Giry tells me when the rehearsal ends.

"I should think not," I reply, wincing a little at how harsh my tone is.

"Don't be insolent, my girl." She narrows her eyes at me.

"Pardon me, Madame Giry. I will not speak to Raoul, nor will I ever meet with him. We are done. And I am courted by somebody else," I inform her, clearly happy and proud.

"Excuse me?"

"Erik and I are officially a courting couple."

"You must be joking!"

"I most certainly am not." I am quite surprised I am brave enough to stand up to her. Again. Erik indeed has helped me to grow stronger and more courageous. "And your choice is simple, Madame. You either accept it, or you do not. I am my own person, and I do not need anoyone's consent to do as I please. I will forever be grateful that you have taken care of me when my papa died, but with all due respect, you will not tell me how to live my life. I am sorry. Truly, I am."

I leave her standing there, rendered speechless, and disappear in my dressing room.

"Oh, Christine," I smile at Erik, who is sitting on my little bed. "Forever fighting with the world because she has fallen in love with a monster."

"Do not speak about the man I love in this manner, monsieur!" I smile, sitting next to him.

"I just wish we could go out, like a normal couple. I wish I could show you the world. I wish I could take you for a walk on Sunday, and that we could attend the Opera together."

"I assure you, I have spent many nights thinking about us, and trust me. I have come to the conclusion that I truly do not wish to have any of this. I only want you."

"If only I were handsome…" he chuckles bitterly.

"You are beautiful," I tell him seriously. He just shakes his head, having stared at me dumbly for the longest while, and kisses the top of my head. "Let's go home."

"Home?"

I giggle, "I do spend so much time at your house, I keep forgetting I own a flat. I should probably move in with you. If you want it."

"You've got no idea," he whispers, a wide smile appearing on his face. "When? Tonight?"

"Perhaps we will wait until tomorrow, dear. Now take me to our home."

"You should probably marry me, too," Erik tells me, lifting his eyebrow. I blink rapidly, not quite believing my own ears.

"Are you proposing? If so, this is the worst proposal I have ever heard."

"Had that many suitors, hmm?"

"I swear to lord, Erik."

"I am not proposing, no. But I will."

"Good. Candles. Chocolate. Wine. You know, the usual. A ring will not hurt either."

"Have it all planned out, do we?"

"Why, of course!"

"I will make sure not to disappoint you," he promises, the mirror sliding open.

"Lots of chocolate, please," I remind him as we disappear behind its glossy surface.

"I fear you will truly get plump after we have wedded."

"For nine months a few times, methinks."

He turns around, his eyes open wide.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Nothing. I just… Damn, I love you."

"Good. Because I love you, too. And I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

I mean it.

When I first saw his face, I was devastated because I thought my fantasy had been shattered into pieces.

Now, as I walk hand in hand with my former Angel and future husband, I know my fantasy did not end that night; it simply started and it shall last till death do us part.


	75. Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed the ride! I would love to hear from you. Thank you for the kudos, you've been absolutely lovely!

_She was the only happy ending I have ever wanted._

* * *

**_{Christine}_ **

"I still have problems believing you are truly here to stay." I feel Erik's arms wrap around me from behind, and I cannot help but smile softly. I turn around, choosing to look at him instead of admiring the view from the rooftop of the Opera House. While Paris at night time is certainly breath-taking, I prefer to focus solely on him.

"You had better," I giggle, still very much the silly ballet girl from the past. "It has been five years. I honestly do not know what else I can do to make you believe I am yours."

"Five years may be, and yet I am still so very smitten with you," he answers, kissing my nose.

"I am most certainly glad; otherwise you would have spanked me ages ago for my little misdemeanours."

And there have been plenty of those.

That one time I got so angry at the Vicomte I pushed Erik out of my way and nearly scratched Raoul's eyes out, almost giving both men a stroke, was certainly the best one in my career of the Phantom's mistress.

"I do admit, the last five and a half years have been rather interesting. I have hardly had the time to terrorise Andre and Firmin as I am constantly busy looking after you."

"Good," I giggle.

"You are so beautiful in moonlight."

"Only then? Why, thank you. This is… sort of sweet of you, I guess?"

"You are oh-so-funny." Erik shakes his head. "But I do love you."

"This is all very romantic, my dear, but," I look over his shoulder and close my eyes in exasperation. "I fear your daughter is going to break her neck if you do not stop her. And soon."

He turns around and whimpers when he sees our baby girl climbing onto the Apollo's Lyre statue.

"Sophie, I swear to lord, your mother and I cannot spend a minute together, can they? Must you be such a daredevil?"

"She is your child," I quip, turning my giggle into a cough when Erik glares at me.

"I'm sorry, papa," the girl whispers, planting a wet kiss on his cheek as he sweeps her into his arms. And this is exactly what she does every time Erik scolds her – she looks at him, those long eyelashes fluttering sweetly, kisses him and everything is forgotten.

I wish he was that forgiving when his wife goofs.

"Can we go home?" Sophie asks, looking at me. "I'm sleepy. And daddy's mask is hurting him."

I smile at her, nodding. "Yes, let's." I look at Erik, and ask him, "We'll stay here?"

"If you wish?"

"I would like that."

* * *

I did not want us to get married.

I wanted to spend my life with Erik, but when he proposed – I obviously accepted, as the entire set-up had been absolutely perfect; chocolate, wine, a beautiful ring, and a beautiful promise of life-long happiness – I decided we should not wed.

At first Erik thought I went mad, but when I told him my reasons, he was… overwhelmed.

Every little girl dreams of the day when her father gives her away to the man with whom she is insanely in love. There are guests, music, wishes, and everybody's happy for the lucky couple.

The thing was, I had no father to give me away. I had no friends with whom I could share my joy. There was no priest that would gladly marry us, without him asking me a hundred times whether I was sure it was what I wanted.

All I had was Erik.

The people who were supposed to accompany us on that day were at the same time those who shunned my fiancé, who thought him a monster, and deemed him revolting.

Did I want to experience that?

No.

But Erik, who despite his terrible temper had always been the wiser one, talked to me for _days_ , and we finally agreed to a small ceremony with only the two of us and a priest. I was reluctant, but then again religion has been important for my father, and I was truly excited to finally be able to call myself Erik's wife.

The priest did ask me three times whether I was positive I was not forced to marry _him_ , and only when I snapped, " _I may be only a woman but I sure am not dumb, and do know how to live my own life_ ", did he continue the ceremony. Twenty minutes and two signatures later, I was a married woman.

I remained Christine Daaé, though, as Erik did not have a surname, and I was already a well-known Opera performer.

When Raoul and Madame Giry spotted my wedding ring, things got a little bit more complicated. I absolutely refused to speak to either of them, which only angered them further. They cornered me in my dressing room that night.

Madame Giry kept wailing, saying something about how I was wasting my life, and that Erik did not deserve me, and I repeated time and time again that it was what I wanted and they had no right to judge my choices.

Raoul nobly promised to help me get a divorce, and then marry me even though it would bring shame onto his family.

That was when Erik stepped in.

The mirror slid open, and he appeared in all his Phantom glory, the mask in place, wearing his beautiful cape and a fedora. I gasped, because he looked insanely handsome, but Raoul, the fool, misinterpreted my reaction and actually wanted to protect me. He grabbed my arm, and tried to force me to hide behind his back, as he was about to fight with the _beast_.

I could tell Erik was more concerned about my wellbeing than about Raoul's threats, but he grabbed the Vicomte's throat demanding he let me go.

I managed to tear my arm from his grasp and rush to Erik's side, begging him not to kill Raoul.

Truthfully, I did not care for Raoul's life at that moment; I just did not want to visit my husband in jail.

Erik listened to me, and ceased trying to strangle to Vicomte. As Raoul coughed and gasped for breath, rubbing his sore throat, he said, "You're such a stupid, stupid girl, Lotte. I could offer you the world, and you choose that freak. He must be really good in bed; the rumours about the Opera whores are true, then."

"Oh no, you did not just say that," I growled then, pushed Erik aside and _flung_ myself onto Raoul. I managed to scratch his face a little, before my husband dragged me away from him.

It was the last time I saw Raoul, who decided to no longer be the Opera's patron. Madame Giry has not spoken to me ever since.

* * *

"Sophie, please don't jump. Your father is old. Catching you is tiring."

"The masks goes or I go," she giggles, as she pivots on the couch.

"You are a very demanding little thing," Erik mutters, taking off his mask. A huge grin spreads across Sophie's face and my heart swells with pride.

"Like mother, like daughter," I titter, as Sophie carefully sits down and pats the spot next to her. Soon enough, they are both snuggling together, and it is clear Sophie will fall asleep any minute.

She likes the house under the Opera, just like Erik and I do. I cried my eyes out when we were moving out. We spent the first year of our marriage here, deciding upon buying a different property only when I realised I was with child. We both knew our baby should not be brought up in a house without sunlight, or a garden for that matter, and as much as it pained us, we knew we had to move. Our new home is decidedly lovely, situated on the outskirts of Paris, yet allowing me to get to the Opera in less than an hour, but we still love to spend some nights in here. Just the three of us.

"Let's get you to bed," I tell her, and Sophie smiles sleepily asking her papa to carry her to bed.

Being unable to tell her no, Erik complies.

He is so whipped it is almost funny.

He has been, actually, ever since he found out he was going to be a father. He was terrified, of course. His deformity was the main reason why whenever I mentioned children, he would flinch and change the subject. It was inevitable, though.

 _Indeed it was_.

I snicker. Erik lifts his eyebrow when he notices my smirk as he tucks Sophie in, but I only shake my head.

When our perfect little girl was born, Erik spent the first week shouting, throwing things around, and crying hysterically. Sometimes at the same time.

Sophie did inherit something from him, aside from the gorgeous eyes; a small blemish could be found just behind her ear. It was tiny, perhaps even smaller than a coin, but to Erik it was like a punch in the face. He could not forgive himself for ruining his little girl, and I was too tired those first few days to care, so I let him throw his temper tantrums as I bonded with our angel.

He calmed down after a while. Thank God.

Now that Sophie's hair got darker and longer, it was completely invisible.

I firmly refused to let him wear his mask around the child as well. His face was nothing to be ashamed of, and I was glad he listened to me. Sophie detests that thing, and is constantly worried the hard porcelain mask is hurting her papa, so she makes him take it off every chance she gets.

Erik tries not to show how overjoyed he is whenever she does it.

I think he still cannot comprehend that we both accept him so fully.

"Alone at last, my diva." Erik kisses my cheek as we leave Sophie's room.

When Carlotta left our Opera, I become the true Prima Donna as the leading soprano. My teacher says he is very proud of me, yet is still very strict during our lessons.

He does not want me to get cocky, he says.

The bastard.

"She is a quite a handful," I nod.

"With parents like us, I truly do not know what we expected."

"Right. So, any plans for the rest of the night?"

"There is some wine left, I think. And you surely have chocolate hidden in here somewhere. We could take it, and spend some time in our bedroom, I think?" He smiles innocently.

"Oh, is that so? We shall sit down and talk about politics?"

"Why of course. That's what grown-up people do, do they not?"

"Lead the way, husband."

We met when I was mourning.

We hurt ourselves a lot.

And then we realised we were soulmates.

As he grasps my hand in his and drags me to our room, I do not regret any single moment; any lie, any fight, any shed tear.

Everything we had been through led us to this: to us, in love, happy beyond belief, with our child sleeping soundly in the next room.

Being strong has truly paid off.

* * *

_And we lived happily ever after._

_Trust me._

* * *

**The end.**

* * *

 


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